


And They Were Roommates

by JCMorrigan



Category: Lilo & Stitch (2002)
Genre: And Happy Things in the Midst, But I Still Thought I'd Warn Because I Tried to Make It Sad, Depression and Angst, Dystopian Future That Gets Undone by Time Travel, Happy ending though, I Know Canon Doesn't Support That but Characterization Did, It's Just Shipping, M/M, Mutual Pining, Reads Like a Collection of Oneshots Scattered Throughout Canon, Stitch Has a Glitch Takes Place After Leroy and Stitch, Stitch and Ai Is Not Canon, The Anime Is Not Canon, The Character Death Gets Undone Too, There's No Porn Either, There's no plot, Though There Are Some Lines Meant to Make You Think Steamy Things, Tried to be Canon Compliant, Twice in the Same Fic Actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 09:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13120752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JCMorrigan/pseuds/JCMorrigan
Summary: At first, Jumba Jookiba and Wendy Pleakley found it difficult to get along, though on some level, they always appreciated each other's company. As time passed, they found themselves redefining their relationship, and ultimately, the challenge loomed of when they could say to each other the words that would either make or break their bond: "I love you."This is basically a collection of oneshots sprinkled throughout the Lilo & Stitch canon, from the first film through the animated series to Stitch Has a Glitch (which I have decided to set LAST in the canon for characterization purposes, even though there are some canon flaws that suggest against this). Just meant to be some shippy fun, though a couple chapters run on angst fuel.





	1. This Does Not Make Us Friends

On his first night in his own bed in the Pelekai household, Wendy Pleakley lay on one side, pinching the edge of his blanket between two fingers, wondering where it had all gone wrong.

            He had been a respected agent among the Galactic Council. He had, from the moment he was assigned his mission to chaperone Jumba Jookiba in the capture of Experiment 626 – no, the creature was “Stitch” now, he had to get used to that – been doing what he judged to be the right thing, at all times. Following the Council’s order to the letter, and being fired for it. Defying the Council directly in order to save the life of an innocent, and being banished for it. Going over it in his head, it seemed that the only logical thing he could have done to prevent his fate was to just let the Council destroy Earth. But that was inconceivable, now that he was here. Mosquitoes or no mosquitoes, he couldn’t imagine letting this planet, with its cultures and civilizations, become space shrapnel. Perhaps the old Pleakley, the one only concerned with protecting the habitat of the mosquito (and hadn’t that been a fool’s errand!), would have let it slide. A sacrifice in the name of the greater good. But things had changed.

            And now he was stranded. Wondering if the book he’d been reading was still lying dog-eared on his desk at what had once been his residence, or if they’d cleaned that all out. Wishing he was lying on that bed instead of this one. Wishing he still had a job, a title, respect, instead of a group of strangers who had been altogether too kind to take him in, and he had to respect that, but as much as he hoped they would become friends (or this “ohana” Lilo spoke of) over time, they were still strangers.

            All except the one who was sleeping not three feet away on the bunk bed above him, snoring so loudly that even if Pleakley’s mind had been enough at ease to let him sleep, he couldn’t have withstood the noise. This fact began to grate on Pleakley. His inner emptiness was filled with annoyance at the cacophony coming from his roommate. Soon, Jumba’s snoring became all Pleakley could focus on, and, fed up, Pleakley slid out of bed, grasped his pillow, and set out to get a little revenge.

            The pillow hit Jumba’s face with a THUNK, waking the self-proclaimed evil genius with a “Wh…what? Who is there?”

            “It’s me,” Pleakley snapped.

            “Little one-eyed one…?” Jumba said groggily. “What is meaning of this disturbance?”

            “Your snoring is keeping me awake,” Pleakley grumbled.

            “Oh,” Jumba replied. “Well. Is too bad for you, then.”

            This earned Jumba a second blow from the pillow.

            “Hey!” Jumba grunted. “Please to be stopping with that! Now I am awake!”

            “Good,” Pleakley retorted. “Now YOU know what it’s like to be kept up by your roommate.” With that, he turned and descended the ladder back into his own bed, aggressively pulling up the covers.

            “Great,” Jumba muttered. “Am not sleepy now.”

            “How’s your own medicine taste?”

            “Bitter,” Jumba practically growled.

            After that, he was silent, and Pleakley rolled to face the wall, attempting to find respite in the quiet he’d earned, but it would not come, swallowed up by the hollow space inside of him.

            There still came no more snoring, a sign that Jumba was still awake. The emptiness was becoming unbearable, and perhaps, just perhaps, it could be filled up with words that described it. So long as there was a listening ear, why not make use of it? “I’m never going home again, you know,” Pleakley sighed.

            There was silence. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Jumba was asleep after all, somehow without making so much as a single snore this time. But Pleakley had begun, and he felt compelled to continue. “I had a well-paying job, a place to call my own, maybe not the best relationship with my family, but hey, that’s…that’s just how family is.” Trying not to compare his blood relatives to the Pelekais and Lilo’s insistence upon Pleakley being part of that ohana now. It wasn’t the same at all. “And now, I’m stranded on a planet that barely registers on the Council’s map. I guess this is supposed to be my home now, but it’s not. It’s weird. This is a weird Earth house. And Lilo and Nani are very nice, but I barely know them. I don’t have any job anymore, I’ll never see any of my old friends or my family again…and all I did was…” No. He wasn’t going to cry. Jumba would latch onto his tears and make a mockery out of them. “All I ever did was what I thought was the right thing. I tried to get 6…Stitch back without destroying this planet. And it wasn’t even my fault I failed.” He was tempted, sorely tempted, to pin the blame on Jumba. After all, it was his experiment, his mission, his interference that had led to all of this. But Pleakley refused to do that as well, for reasons he had yet to divulge. “I just keep wondering…how did it all go so wrong? How did I end up here?”

            “And I am caring why?” Jumba replied.

            “Right,” Pleakley sighed. “Of course you don’t care. And I don’t know why I even thought I should tell you about any of it.”

            Five minutes passed, and sleep came to claim neither. “Is strange to me,” Jumba said finally, “hearing you say all this. During day, you are always rushing to marvel at Earth this, look at Earth that. Are you saying you are not wanting to be here after all?”  
            “There’s a lot about it I love,” Pleakley confessed, rolling back to the side of the bed that faced away from the wall. So Jumba did want to talk after all: a relief. “I would love it even more if I were here on an educational mission or a vacation. Not permanent exile. I want to be able to go home when this is over. But this is home now.” He took a long, slow breath before letting it loose. “And maybe it’ll feel like that eventually. Maybe I just need to give everything time. It’s just that when the end of the day comes, I remember how different everything is from how I thought my life should be going.” Then, seized by an indignant streak, wanting to at least give Jumba a little grief for being the reason they were both there, he added more sharply, “But you wouldn’t know about that, would you? You were a criminal. You probably hopped laboratories every week to hide your illegal genetic experiments. I bet you didn’t have a home.”

            “I had life too,” Jumba insisted, somewhat offended that Pleakley had made such an assumption. “I did not have new lab every week. Just the one. It grew familiar after so many years. Was interrupted during creation of 626, and ripped away from lab I had come to call home.”

            “Did…” Pleakley wondered if he should broach the subject. “Did you have any friends?”

            “Friends?” Jumba repeated. “Hmm. Was partner once, who funded evil experimentation. Jacques von Hämsterviel. We were close. And was married once.” A grunt of disgust. “Never again with that woman. Do not even want to speak her name. But as time went on, realized I did not need friends. I was own best friend, and was fine.”

            “You weren’t lonely?”

            “Lonely? HA! Why would I be lonely? I have genius intelligence and creativity! Is all anyone needs! Friends are unnecessary! As are wives. And you? Ever married? Girlfriend, even?”

            “No!” Pleakley said hurriedly. “It wasn’t…I don’t…no.” He was afraid of the topic of romance. Shortly before his mission to Earth with Jumba, he had been in the midst of questioning some things about himself, things that scared him. Plorgonarian men were supposed to only have their eyes and hearts set on women, and vice versa, but a few passing feelings toward some companions and the lack of such feelings toward others made Pleakley wonder if he wasn’t as heterosexual as his family would have wanted him to be – or, for that matter, at all. And he would sooner throw himself out of the second story window than let Jumba Jookiba in on that. “I’m, uh…I’m sorry I said you wouldn’t understand.” There. The subject was changed. “Actually, you’re the only person I know who really would understand, after everything we’ve been through. You know, at first I thought you were just this big stupid evil bully who would end up either killing me or getting me killed.”

            “Am big and evil,” Jumba confirmed. “The rest, not so much.”

            “But it’s weird,” Pleakley went on. “Since moving in with Nani and Lilo, you’ve actually been really pleasant company. You might even be the one friend I have left. Oh, I’m sure Nani and Lilo will become my friends eventually, but right now, you’re the one I know best, and you actually have a lot of redeeming qualities. You did drop everything to save Lilo in the end, after all. Sure, it took Nani and Stitch to convince you, but you did the right thing. I thought I would hate being stuck on Earth with you, but I’m glad you’re here.” And that was why he didn’t want to fully place the blame.

            “Is true?” Jumba replied.

            “Yeah,” Pleakley confirmed. “It is.”

            “Well, I am not feeling same about you,” Jumba huffed. “You are high-pitched goody-three-shoes nuisance who is keeping me awake. I couldn’t care less about your whining.”

            “But you were just talking to me and asking questions – “

            “Am scientist. Am naturally curious. That is it. Am wishing to sleep now. No more of your chitchat.”

            “Well, that’s a fine how-do-you-do!” Pleakley rolled back over to face the wall in one sharp movement, folding his arms. “See if I open up to you again!”

            “Please. Do not.”

            That was the final word of the night. Not ten minutes later came the cacophonous snoring. Pleakley made do as best he could, lying still and hoping for sleep. For a moment, it seemed as though the hollow inside of him had been filled, just a little bit, with something light and gossamer, but now it was torn, leaving him more hollow than before.

            Sleep was merciful to him at last, letting him slip away.

 

* * *

 

            Daylight made a lot of things look better. Jumba had been right about one thing for sure: Pleakley was much more wont to admire the beauty Earth had to offer when the sun was up.

            The inhabitants of the house all had a rather awkward breakfast together to kick off the day; while Lilo and Stitch had a ball cutting the pancakes Nani had made into shapes that vaguely resembled dinosaurs and drowning them in syrup “tar pits,” Nani, Jumba, and Pleakley had merely exchanged a series of wary glances and failed to dig up anything to talk about before Nani asked her sister to please go a bit easier on the syrup. After that, Nani had work – the orientation week of a new job renting out surfing equipment – and Lilo and Stitch ventured out to their hula class, leaving Jumba and Pleakley alone in the house. They left the table without so much as a word to each other.

            It occurred to Pleakley that if he were going to live on Earth long-term, he would need to expand his wardrobe. He as of yet had no Earth currency with which to purchase anything new, but that wouldn’t stop him from looking at what was offered and remembering the best shops for later. First, of course, he needed a basic disguise with which to leave the house.

            He never really overthought how much the people of Earth saw what they wanted to see. A set of human clothes was usually enough for Jumba and Pleakley to pass unnoticed among society; only occasionally did the average person on the street turn to regard either of them as looking slightly out of place. Pleakley considered the dress he’d first acquired in order to infiltrate humanity, but hadn’t he already worn that one so many times?

            Pleakley knew he wasn’t supposed to raid the closets of his hosts. But, he thought to himself, his usual dress could use a wash, and he was only just borrowing something to wear for a short time. Yes, he thought as he entered Nani’s room, he would put it right back where he found it. No, he would run it through the laundry, like a considerate guest, then put it right back where he found it. And it wasn’t as though he wanted to look in the other corners of Nani’s room. He wasn’t a snoop. He was just seeking a fresh change of clothes.

            And Nani had just the dress he was looking for. It was roomy, given Pleakley’s skinny frame, but it would do for the day when paired with the usual wig. Pleakley stopped in front of a bathroom mirror to give the entire sight a visual check before stepping out. Nani’s dress was a muted shade of orange, perhaps not the best contrast against a green complexion but not the worst either.

            Outfitted with clothing and confidence alike, Pleakley stepped out into the heat of the day. He reflected, as he made his way into town, that Earth society, much like that of Plorgonar, drew a hard line between clothes for men and clothes for women. And the sad truth was that men’s clothes were altogether less vibrant, with less variety and far less creativity put into them than women’s garb. That had been true on Plorgonar and it held true on Earth, though it was only on the latter that Pleakley had been able to wear clothes specified as women’s. In the name of his disguise, he’d told himself, though in truth, he could have picked something more masculine – and thereby more boring – if he’d wanted. Wearing what truly looked good to him was exhilarating, and that was much of what led to his quest that day to seek out more of it, even if he couldn’t have it.

            He searched through three different boutiques without incident; by the time he’d gotten a good read on the offerings of the fourth he visited, he noted the time, and he was certainly due to return home if he wanted to return Nani’s dress to its proper place without its absence being noticed.

            A sales associate with a broad smile approached Pleakley, asking as her job mandated, “Can I help you?”

            “Oh, no,” Pleakley told her, beginning to back away toward the door. “I was just looking. Though you have a fine array of Earth garments.”

            “Thank…you?” The woman was confused.

            “In fact, I shall most certainly be back to get – “ Pleakley was interrupted when he backed right into somebody else. Startled, he turned to apologize: “Sorry! I was…” He got an eyeful of exactly who he’d run into. “Oh. It’s YOU.”

            Jumba had apparently also wanted to take the day out to look for clothes, though he tended toward the clothes delineated as male (his loss, Pleakley thought). Jumba gave a casual “Hmph” before remarking, “Is you.”

            “I’ll just leave you to browse,” the sales associate decided before moving along.

            In a low whisper, Pleakley hissed, “You better not be here to steal anything.”

            “Stealing?” Jumba said defensively. “Who is stealing? No one is stealing anything.” At the same time, he fished a watch out of his pocket that he certainly hadn’t owned earlier that day and set it discreetly up on a shelf.

            “Can I take my eyes off you for a MINUTE?” Pleakley groaned.

            “What?” Jumba replied. “I put it back.” He looked Pleakley up and down. “Though you should be one to talk. Isn’t that dress of Nani?”

            “I’m putting it back!” Pleakley snapped. “In fact, I’m going home to do that RIGHT NOW!” He twisted his way around Jumba and made a beeline for the door.

            It took him a moment to realize Jumba was close behind him. “What do you want?” Pleakley sighed.

            “Am going home,” Jumba told him. “If cannot steal anything, is no point in being out.”

            “And here I was thinking you had a conscience.”

            Their coordinated path took them out of the shop and down the same street together. Pleakley considered speeding up or slowing down so they wouldn’t have to accompany each other, but ultimately decided that would be immature. Slightly more acceptable was passive aggressive talk. “I’m surprised you can tolerate walking home with me,” he accused. “I would think I’m just too big of a NUISANCE to walk with. Oh, no, don’t tell me, I’m talking too much. There goes Pleakley, whining again! Whine, whine, whine, whine, whine – “

            Jumba let Pleakley monologue for a while as he considered his position. He had long ago put up strong walls around himself: not to protect anything fragile, but to fortify what he already believed to be a solid structure. (Though that didn’t mean there weren’t parts of him that could be easily broken if struck at just the right angle, but he cared not to think about those.) Striking out as a rogue from the eyes of the government and all that was good in order to pursue the sort of science most would brand mad had made him an outcast, a label that he’d embraced wholeheartedly. Outcasts didn’t have friends. Outcasts didn’t have “ohana.” And here he was, cast even further out, exiled to Earth. The problem was that his way of life here relied on others. Nani had invited him in, Lilo had argued to give him a second chance, Stitch had convinced him to stay. And then, of course, there was Pleakley. He still hadn’t come to terms with admitting that he might actually be fond of any of these people, let alone all of them. It didn’t seem to be part of his nature.

            He was being made very aware, however, of the fact that last night’s conversation during the wee hours had hurt Pleakley’s feelings. Now there was someone easily broken, Jumba thought. Easily set off emotionally in any direction. Pleakley could never have made it in the kind of life Jumba had lived out. And that, Jumba thought, should have made him desensitized to Pleakley, should have made it the truth when he said he couldn’t care less. But realizing just how upset Pleakley was at the moment, sewn together with the experiences the two had shared coming to Earth, ignited a strange desire within Jumba: the desire to fix what he’d broken. It was a rare feeling, one he hadn’t encountered since Nani had informed him that Lilo had been captured by Gantu because of Stitch. And he hoped desperately that this didn’t mark the beginning of an era in which this feeling would become more commonplace. But for the moment, he knew what he had to do, and that was own up to how he actually regarded his roommate.

            “ – open up to you,” Pleakley was still going, “I listen to you talk about your old life, I admit where I went wrong, and you’d think that would give you a little sympathy at least. But nooooooooo!”

            “Pleakley,” Jumba sighed, “stop.”

            “Oh, what? You want me to stop whining?”

            “I want you to listen to me for minute,” Jumba groaned. Here came the confession he hadn’t been ready to make, but if not now, he knew, he would have to come out with it eventually. “When I say ‘high-pitched goody-three-shoes nuisance’ last night, may have been…slight exaggeration.”

            “Oh yeah?” Pleakley snapped, though he was interested to hear where this was going.

            “You speak truth,” Jumba admitted. “We are ones who understand each other best in this moment. Is somewhat comforting to know am not ONLY one stranded on Earth who had life before.”

            “Stitch – “

            “626 practically began life here, despite short stint in lab. 626 would not understand. He has little girl for companion. Me? On most days, do not care for companion. Yet you are tolerable company. No…more than tolerable. Am not liking insinuation you make that I have conscience, but do like conversing with you on good day.”

            Pleakley was completely caught off guard. True, his tirade had been meant to elicit some sort of apology, but this was a bit more than he was hoping for. “You mean it?” he asked eagerly.

            “I mean it,” Jumba relented. “And is one other thing you should know. But am only saying this ONCE, you understand? Am never, EVER bringing this up again to you or anyone else.”

            “Okay.” Pleakley shrugged. “I’m listening.”

            Jumba stepped out in front of Pleakley in order to look him in the eye; they both stopped and stood still. “During chase with captain to rescue little girl,” Jumba admitted, hoping he wouldn’t regret the words the moment they came out of his mouth, “ship got blasted with enemy fire. One hit very near you. You screamed. I thought for moment you had been incinerated, and was strangely terrified. I had no reason to be. You had done nothing but aggravate and insult me. And yet very much did not wish you dead. Then saw you were fine, and forgot about it.”

            “You…” Pleakley was stricken with surprise. He could vaguely recall the incident. His hearts were beating faster now; was that adrenaline from the memory of chasing Gantu down in the spaceship, or warmth from knowing that his roommate actually did care about his well-being? “You were actually scared for me.”

            “Yes. Do not make me repeat self.”

            “Oh, no, I won’t. I just…” He couldn’t hold back from breaking into a great smile. “You DO care about me!”

            Jumba rolled all four eyes, turning to resume his walk. “Should not have told you. Now you will not shut up about it.”

            “You do know I don’t want anything bad to happen to you either, right? I mean, I hoped that was obvious now, but just in case it wasn’t, I don’t.”

            Jumba looked back over his shoulder, giving Pleakley a smile. “Is good to know.”

            He slowed a little; Pleakley fell into pace beside him. Maybe it was a good thing, Jumba thought, that he’d aired the laundry he had. Still, he wanted to clarify his position. “You realize this does not make us friends.”

            “Well, maybe not YET, but – “

            “It does NOT. Make us. Friends.”

            “Okay, okay. We’re not friends,” Pleakley relented, a little disappointed.

            “We are roommates,” Jumba reiterated. “We are tolerable to each other. We do not want each other to die. Is more than could be said for when we first met. But we are not friends.”

            “I get it, I get the point!”

            “Good.”

            That put a damper on the conversation until Pleakley brought up, “You know, I’m actually getting used to this tropical climate.”

            “Not me,” Jumba grunted. “Is too warm.”

            “Well, that’s what I thought at first, but…”

            It was something as simple as the weather that kept their conversation fueled all the way home, where they found Nani waiting for them on the front porch, irked.

            “What?” Jumba asked her innocently. “We do something wrong?”

            “I think you have something of mine,” she said accusatorily.

            The dress.

            “I…was going to put it back?” Pleakley said sheepishly.

            Nani sighed. “I just don’t want you going through my things.”

            “I wasn’t going through your things! Just your closet.”

            “My closet is where I KEEP my THINGS!”

            This discussion only went on a little while longer; Nani eventually dropped the issue, figuring there were worse things to get worked up about than a housemate borrowing her dress for the day. Dinnertime had arrived, and, like the meals shared over the past few days, it would be awkward.

 

* * *

 

            The mood would improve, of course. Nani, Lilo, and Stitch would become far more familiar and beloved to Pleakley as time passed – and to Jumba, though he would be loath to admit it. They would find more things to talk about over dinner. They would finally feel as though they’d made a home.

            But that immediate night, Pleakley was once again faced with a lonely void as he tried once more to sleep. He tried to push it out of mind and avoid confronting it, but memories of his life before Earth were persistent.

            He recalled Jumba posing the question of what it must be like for Stitch to have nothing, not even memories to visit in the middle of the night. Pleakley, at that moment, decided that it was better not to have the memories.

            “Pleakley.”

            Jumba’s voice cut through his reverie, and Pleakley answered cautiously; “Yes?”

            “Are you asleep?”

            “No.”

            There was no response. Pleakley wondered what that had been about before returning to his internal battle.

            “Pleakley. Are you asleep?”

            The second time Jumba asked, Pleakley responded again with a “No.” And so he did the third time. But when Jumba asked the fourth time, Pleakley sprang up out of bed and scaled the ladder; “NO! I AM NOT ASLEEP! AND I’M NOT GOING TO GET TO SLEEP IF YOU KEEP ASKING ME IF I’M ASLEEP! WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME IF I’M ASLEEP?”

            “Because,” Jumba answered casually. “You go to sleep first, then you will already be asleep when snoring starts, and you are not kept awake, so am waiting for you before I sleep.”

            This completely disarmed Pleakley, who retreated back to his bed slowly. “Oh,” he said softly. “Thanks. Don’t worry about it tonight. Just go to sleep.”

            “Well, all right.”

            The void, Pleakley found, had been filled just enough for him to be able to get rest.


	2. Don't Scare Me Like That Again

Every tick of the clock echoed throughout the whole house. Did Lilo and Stitch really think Nani wouldn’t notice them gone? Nani would have chased after them, but David had talked her out of it. For one, he said, “They can handle whatever’s going on.” For another, “I don’t think things will go well for Cobra Bubbles if more people show up to the rendezvous point.”

            And so Nani let her anxiety pound in her chest to the tick of the clock as she waited. Already, she’d had to deal with the potential permanent loss of Jumba. If she wasn’t wrong, she had finally been breaking through to him into a semblance of friendship. Pleakley was a lot easier to get along with from the get-go, of course. They’d adopted the monikers of “Uncle Jumba” and “Aunt Pleakley,” and Nani was beginning to feel they’d earned the titles: a good rank above being housemates. And now one of them had been abducted, potentially to be killed before Bubbles could strike a deal for his safe return.

            But on top of that, she’d had to send Pleakley out to negotiate the transaction with what she understood to be some very dangerous people. The one who’d kidnapped Lilo was involved, and that was enough to scare Nani without the added knowledge of this “Hämsterviel,” who sounded like a Saturday morning cartoon villain come to life. She hoped desperately that Pleakley hadn’t taken his last steps out of the door of the house.

            And then Lilo and Stitch had taken off. Again. Nani wondered if her words had any weight with Lilo anymore; her sister was just doing whatever she wanted, and Stitch was following along. If anything, Nani could take comfort in knowing that Lilo never broke the rules for selfish means; it was always with good intentions. But that didn’t make it any less frightening.

            Tick, tick, tick. Nani’s stomach twisted at the thought that she might lose her entire family in a single night.

            The clock’s rhythm was interrupted by the opening of the front door, and Nani heard several distinctly familiar voices coming through it:

            “ – when Nani finds out what the Grand Councilwoman wants us to do.”

            “Tookie bah wah bah!”

            “I say we cross bridge when we come to it.”

            “Well, we’re going to COME to it in about ten seconds – “

            Nani skidded into the foyer. “You’re okay!” she gushed, finding Lilo, Stitch, Jumba, and Pleakley in one piece. She knelt quickly, scooping Lilo and Stitch into her arms. “I was so worried about you! You should know better than to go into danger like that!”

            “Uh…about that,” Lilo said sheepishly.

            Nani let go of Lilo, backing off to look her little sister in the eye; “What ABOUT THAT?”

            “We have mission!” Stitch asserted. “From Councilwoman!”

            Cobra Bubbles edged into the door from behind the group. “I’m afraid we have much to discuss regarding Lilo and Stitch’s future,” he informed Nani.

            “But everyone’s back home safe,” Nani argued. “What could there possibly be left to discuss?”

            “This may take a while,” Bubbles sighed.

 

* * *

 

            “So what you’re saying,” Nani repeated, “is that my sister and Stitch are now…galactic agents…who have to collect these dangerous monsters from around Hawaii?”

            She, David, Bubbles, Lilo, Stitch, Jumba, and Pleakley had gathered in the living room, sitting on whatever furniture was available, to go over what had taken place at the rendezvous point.

            “Nothing they can’t handle,” David broke in.

            Nani lightly backhanded his shoulder. “Will you STOP SAYING THAT? One of these days, there’s going to be something they CAN’T handle, and then…” She sighed. “This is my life now, isn’t it?”

            “I’m afraid it is,” Bubbles said, matter-of-fact. “The good news is Lilo and Stitch have already proven themselves multiple times. I agree with David that they are well-equipped for this mission.”

            “And I’m guessing I can’t suggest any alternative without breaking intergalactic law,” Nani sighed.

            Bubbles responded with a simple “No.”

            Nani gave Lilo a sympathetic look. “Well, you are pretty tough.” She turned her gaze to Stitch. “And the two of you together make a great team. I guess I’m just going to have to get used to this.”

            Bubbles rose from his chair, straightening his suit jacket. “Other duties call,” he informed the group. “Things are sorted out enough here that you don’t need me. And if anyone asks, I was never here.” He breezed away as though he actually never had been present.

            “Well!” Pleakley clapped his hands together. “I think we’ve all had quite enough adventure for one day. Everyone agrees with me, right?”

            “Is it actually over this time?” Nani sighed.

            “It’s gonna be fine!” Lilo insisted. “We should get some sleep, though. We have to start out early tomorrow morning to look for those missing experiments!”

            “Sleep,” Nani said with a nod. “Sleep is good. Just promise me you’re actually going to bed this time and not going to sneak out to look for any of those monsters.”

            “Not monsters,” Stitch insisted. “Cousins.”

            “Sorry,” Nani replied. “Any of your cousins.”

            Lilo and Stitch approached Nani, who knelt to hug them both. “Goodnight, you two,” she said affectionately, kissing each on the forehead.

            “Goodnight, Nani!” Lilo replied.

            “Night-night!” Stitch affirmed.

            With that, the two took off, and Nani let out a deep breath.

            “We should probably hit the hay, too,” Pleakley added.

            Jumba was perplexed; “Since when are you speaking for both of us?”

            “I just think we’ve both had a long day,” Pleakley insisted, “and it might be good for us to get some extra rest.”

            Upon Jumba’s inspection, there was something desperate in Pleakley’s face, something that begged for a moment away from Nani, David, and the others. What exactly Pleakley wanted, Jumba couldn’t be sure, but he figured he might as well indulge. “You make good point. We will reconvene in morning.”

            “You’re sure you two are okay?” David asked. “I mean, Jumba, you were almost…well, you know.”

            “Typical Saturday,” Jumba said with a shrug as he lumbered away.

            Pleakley was about to follow, but felt Nani’s hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t need to talk?” she asked him.

            “Talk?” Pleakley repeated. “Why would I need to talk? What is there to talk about?”

            “I just want you to know I’m here for you,” Nani insisted.

            “You don’t need to worry about me,” Pleakley told her. “I am completely cool under pressure. And now, the pressure’s off, so I’m even cooler.”

            “Well, all right,” Nani relented, removing her hand.

            As Pleakley scurried away, Nani flopped down next to David on the couch. “He is not okay,” she sighed. “And he is DEFINITELY not cool under pressure. I know Jumba was the one who was abducted, but I’m more worried about Pleakley. I feel like this whole calm act is just a façade he’s putting on, and the minute he gets away from us, he’ll break down.”

            “If he doesn’t want you to get in the way of that,” David told her, “that is his choice.”

            “I know, I know,” Nani groaned. “He’s just…emotionally unstable, and I feel like I should be making things easier on him. They’re ALL my family now, David. I’m responsible for all of them.”

            “You’re only one person,” David reminded her. “You can’t be responsible for all of them at the same time. Especially the ones who are grown adults. If they need you, let them come to you.”

            “Right,” Nani agreed. “I need to focus on Lilo and Stitch.” She leaned back on the couch. “What am I supposed to do about them now, David?”

            “Trust them,” David told her. “They’ve escaped capture by evil aliens what, twice now? They’re capable. Be there when they need you, of course. But give them credit. You really don’t need to worry so much.”

            “I can’t help it,” Nani groaned. “That makes me as bad as Pleakley, doesn’t it?”

            “Well, you just need someone to be there for you, too,” David told her. “And I can be that.”

            “David – “

            “I’m not talking about a date or being your boyfriend. Just about being your friend who’s here for you.”

            Nani turned to flash David a weak smile. “Thanks, David.”

 

* * *

 

            Jumba had been given a lot to think about. He had been adamant that he had no friends, no family. He hadn’t even registered it when Hämsterviel had threatened “his family,” stating that he didn’t even have one. But the members of this household had fought tooth and nail to bring him back in one piece. He hated to think of the implications – had he gone completely soft? – but that touched him.

            Perhaps it was time for his walls to come down, or at least for him to install gates. For he was fond of the Pelekais, of Stitch, of David –

            And then, as always, there was Pleakley. Once again, the implications of this bothered him, but when he was brought to the rendezvous point to be traded for the experiments, he had been glad to see Pleakley’s face first when he was brought off Hämsterviel’s craft. That had been the first signifier that he was closer to things being okay. And of course Pleakley had wanted to protect him. That only fell in line with what he knew of Pleakley.

            While Nani held Pleakley up, Jumba was given a precious few moments to think all of this over. Gates, at least. That much was definite. And he had grown rather fond of the idea of having a real family. It was as though an empty space had been filled, but he hadn’t even been aware that space was there, let alone in need of something to occupy it.

            Pleakley caught up to him. “I knew everything would work out,” he said in a voice that was just loud enough for Jumba to suspect he was planning for eavesdroppers to investigate them.

            “Did you, now?” Jumba asked teasingly, one hundred percent sure that was not the case.

            “We thwarted Gantu once before,” Pleakley reminded him. “It was no big deal to do it again. And that Hamster-wheel guy. He thinks he’s all high and mighty!”

            “That he does,” Jumba confirmed, opening the door to their bedroom. “Always has.”

            Pleakley quickened his pace to enter the room, and Jumba followed him, closing the door behind. He cast his gaze upward to where Gantu had sundered the roof to acquire him. “Looks like we have skylight!” Jumba joked.

            No sooner had he gotten the quip out than Pleakley, uninhibited by a need to keep up appearances the moment the door closed, threw his arms around Jumba, squeezing him as tightly as he could, pressing his head against Jumba’s shoulder.

            “What is this…?” Jumba asked, thrown off by the sudden gesture.

            Pleakley’s voice trembled as he begged, “Don’t you ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER, EVER, EVER scare me like that again!” He trembled slightly. “I thought you were gone forever! And THEN I thought Gantu was gonna shoot you, and I was gonna lose you, and I don’t know what I would have done if that happened!”

            It was here, Jumba knew, that he had to install the first gate in his walls. He could have pushed Pleakley away, or berated Pleakley for thinking anything bad was going to happen, or insisted that he shouldn’t have mattered. Instead, he slowly, gently wrapped his own arms around Pleakley, holding him closely but delicately – it occurred to him how small Pleakley was, comparatively speaking, and he didn’t wish to cause him accidental injury with too tight of a grip. “Is okay,” Jumba said softly. “I am all right. You are all right. We are both all right.”

            “I just – I thought – I know we’re not supposed to be friends, but – “

            “Shhhhh.” Jumba moved one hand to the back of Pleakley’s head, cradling as gently as he could. “We may need to reconsider definition of relationship. Have been thinking about such things.”

            “Wh…what do you mean?”

            Pleakley made to step back; Jumba let go of him, allowing him to back away. Jumba then got a good look at Pleakley’s face and the water that was streaming from his single eye. “I know!” Pleakley barked before Jumba could comment. “Oh, I know, I’m crying, and you’re going to make fun of me for it, but given everything that happened tonight, I should think I have the RIGHT to cry!”

            “No,” Jumba said softly. “Was not going to make fun. You are correct. You have every right.” Without thinking, he reached out, gently brushing his thumb against Pleakley’s lower lid to dispel the tear streaks. He recoiled his hand almost immediately after doing so, surprised that he’d made the gesture.

            “Okay, what’s going on?” Pleakley asked accusatorily. “Did Hamster-wheel switch you out for a fake? Because the Jumba I know doesn’t act like this.”

            “I can assure you I am not fake,” Jumba insisted. “As I said, have been thinking. All I wanted you to do was protect experiments, but all of you fought to save me when Hämsterviel had me taken. Seeing that made me think: have I grown fond of this family? Do I actually have family? Am I part of ohana? And I think answer is yes.”

            “Well, duh,” Pleakley replied, smiling through his tears.

            “As for you,” Jumba went on, “we are most certainly not friends. We are family now. When I was brought out from ship for ransom, was incredibly relieved to see you waiting there. When you called detention cell phone, was glad to hear your voice again. Thought about you some…wished you were there to talk to. Then thought, better not, because if you were there, would mean you had been captured by Hämsterviel too, and would not have wanted THAT. Point is, am now willing to call us family that we are.”

            “We are, aren’t we?” Pleakley’s smile grew. “When you picked up that phone, I…oh, well, it doesn’t matter. Because you’re back! And now things can get back to normal! Well, except for the 625 experiments scattered around – “

            “623.”

            “The 623…wait. I subtracted Stitch and Sparky, but…”

            “Gantu has one too. 625. Tried to activate him as superweapon, but 625 is lazy coward. All will do is make sandwiches.”

            “Sandwiches?” Pleakley repeated. “Okay, wait. I think I need to hear about all this from the beginning.”

            “From beginning? What do you mean?”

            “Well, you told me you WORKED with Hamster-wheel once,” Pleakley reminded him, “but you never told me what all happened between you two. You made a LOT of experiments together.”

            “Is long story,” Jumba informed Pleakley. “You have time?”

            “Maybe we better sit.”

            They sat next to each other on Pleakley’s bed, Pleakley asking question after question about Jumba’s past with Hämsterviel and the escaped experiments. Jumba found himself all too happy to answer. As the night grew later, Jumba, becoming steadily more tired, reclined back on the bed, resting his head on the pillow while Pleakley still sat on the edge of it to ask him questions. Not too much later, Pleakley tired as well, but still he had more questions, so he sprawled out on the bed next to Jumba; neither one minded the proximity. Their conversation grew less and less coherent until both of them dropped into sleep there on the same bed, where they spent the rest of the night slumbering away, only inches of space between them.


	3. Maybe You're the One Without Any Halloween Spirit

The doorbell rang; the owner of the house opened the door tentatively. It was rather late in the night for trick-or-treaters, but perhaps there were still some meandering about.

            “TRICK OR TREAT!”

            The man was greeted by the sight of what appeared to be two fully grown adults, one dressed as a matador (though without shoes) and one wearing civilian garb, holding out bags.

            “Aren’t you a little old to be trick-or-treating?” he sighed.

            “You’re never too old to participate in candy-related Earth festivities!” the matador insisted.

            The man slammed the door without even offering a single candy.

            “OH, YEAH?” Pleakley yelled at the shut door. “SOME HALLOWEEN SPIRIT YOU HAVE! I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE WITH LESS HALLOWEEN SPIRIT!” He cast a forlorn glance down at his bag, which only contained three candies despite his and Jumba’s quest having been under way for half an hour. “Except for most of the other houses in this neighborhood.”

            “Perhaps participating in activity generally reserved for children was bad idea,” Jumba suggested.

            “No!” Pleakley insisted. “Everyone’s probably reticent to give us candy because YOU’RE not in costume! Who wants to give candy to somebody who isn’t even dressed up?”

            They moved back out on the street, headed toward the next house. Much of the trick-or-treat crowd had already dissipated; Jumba and Pleakley’s late start had been due to the untimely intervention of an experiment that needed capture. Experiment 300, to be precise. That particular creature had the ability to shapeshift into anyone’s worst fear, prompting Lilo to name him “Spooky” and give him a home in an abandoned mansion where thrillseekers could visit him for a scare. The pursuit of Spooky had left everyone just a little shaken, which was why, when Jumba and Pleakley charted their course for a house that was a little further down the road, Pleakley pointed out:

            “I think this was just the distraction we needed after that whole Spooky incident.”

            “Am not arguing that we needed distraction,” Jumba agreed. “Begging for candy in child’s tradition still not best distraction we could have.”

            “Maybe YOU’RE the one without any Halloween spirit!”

            Jumba just shrugged at this statement.

            The house yielded them one more piece of candy each, given out by a teenager who looked thoroughly confused as to why he was offering treats to adults. The next house was even further away.

            “So…” Jumba was ginger about broaching the subject at first, but the curiosity was slowly burrowing into his mind to hibernate. “Your worst fear…is mother?”

            Pleakley tensed at the reminder, slowing down his pace.

            “Apologies,” Jumba said quickly. “We do not have to discuss – “

            “Well, it’s…it’s complicated,” Pleakley replied. “I just don’t really feel like my family understands me. I can’t be myself around them, and no matter how hard I try to keep up appearances, they always find something I’ve done wrong to make me feel bad about. My mother is kind of the ringleader of them. There’s a good reason I don’t call her as much as she’d want me to. The thought of telling her about how things are now…well, it terrifies me! I don’t want her to hear that I got fired from my position and am living on Earth now! She wouldn’t let me hear the end of it!”

            “Ah, I see,” Jumba said with a nod. “Is like how things were with ex-wife before she was ex. At first, thought she was compatible mate. Married her for a reason, you know. But she would not let me be self. Ever. When finally found calling as evil scientist, she approved of neither science nor evil. Had to become different person around her than was to everyone else. Felt isolated, maybe even little depressed. Started spending more time away from house, avoiding her as much as could…was some of worst years of life. Constant nagging did not help. Hence worst fear.”

            “Gosh, that sounds awful,” Pleakley said sympathetically. “Though at least you never had to hide from your ex-wife that you were ga – “

            He realized what he was saying: the one thing he hadn’t wanted Jumba to be privy to. He had to save it, and quickly: “aaaaAAAAME FOR MUSICAL CHAIRS! You know how it is when you want to play musical chairs all the time, but your family is sick of it? Boy, does that ever drive a rift into a relationship!”

            “I see,” Jumba replied, thinking it over.

            Pleakley quickly knocked on the door of the next house to get the subject changed as quickly as possible. The woman who answered gave the pair a good look-over. “Now, I like your costume!” she told Pleakley. “That’s some good Halloween spirit!” She tossed three candies into his bag. “But your husband didn’t even try!” She slammed the door before Jumba could receive anything.

            “Am not husband of – “ Jumba tried to argue, but there was no reasoning with a closed door. “Never mind. Can you imagine? I made point of LEAVING relationship in which there was constant nagging.”

            “Oh, ha ha, very funny,” Pleakley groaned as they hit the street again.

            “So,” Jumba resumed, “musical chairs. Is odd euphemism for only being attracted to same gender. Must be Plorgonar thing.”

            “WHAT?” Pleakley screeched. “I don’t – I’m not – I mean – “ He sputtered syllables for a good thirty seconds before sighing and asking, “How did you know?”

            “Was obvious from moment I met you.”

            “And you…well…” His voice grew timid. “What do you…think about it?”

            “Is no big deal,” Jumba said casually. “Kweltikwans do not make too much fuss over it. So you are gay. Does not make you any less annoying.”

            “Well, gee, thanks,” Pleakley said sarcastically.

            “Or any less ohana,” Jumba added more seriously, lightly clapping Pleakley on the back.

            That brought a smile to Pleakley. “So, uh…you…you said it wasn’t a big deal on your planet. Are you just…”

            “Just straight? Most likely. Have only ever been attracted to women so far. Is unlikely, but am not ruling out possibility of man one day.” Jumba shrugged. “Would have to be impressive man, of course. Intelligent, diabolical – “

            “So like Hämsterviel, but with less backstabbing.”

            “Accurate description.”

            The woman who opened the door at the next house took one look at Jumba and Pleakley, said “No,” and slammed the door shut.

            “To point,” Jumba said after that disappointment, “am very glad for distraction after facing fears.”

            “So you’re okay?” Pleakley asked.

            “Why would I not be okay?” Jumba replied. “Was only 300. Not real ex-wife. Gave me heebie-jeebies to come face-to-face, but is over now, and we are reluctantly trick-or-treating.”

            “YOU’RE the only one who’s been reluctant about it.”

            “Is true,” Jumba admitted. “You have been gung-ho from start about acting like child.”

            “FOR THE LAST TIME, YOU’RE NEVER TOO OLD TO – “

            “All right, all right, I get picture!” Jumba interrupted. Then, softer: “Are…YOU all right?”

            “Why wouldn’t I be? Like you said, it was just an experiment. It’s not like I had to listen to my real mom get mad at me for trying to live up to her expectations but not be what she wants me to be.” Pleakley’s grip tightened on his bag, and Jumba knew then that Pleakley was still shaken. His mother was, of course, still out there, perhaps only a phone call away, and the threat of her anger upon learning about the part of Pleakley that he kept hidden from her was very present.

            With a sigh, Jumba held his bag of few candies out toward Pleakley. “Here. Take all.”

            “Wha – why?”

            “Because. Am not in mood for chocolate. Would have to chew it anyway.”

            “Are you just trying to make me feel better after – “

            “Do not make big deal out of it,” Jumba insisted. “Just take.”

            “Well, you had to relive the worst years of your life,” Pleakley recalled. “Maybe you’re the one who needs this.” He held his own bag in Jumba’s direction.

            “We are to be getting nowhere this way,” Jumba told him. “Just take bag and keep own.”

            “No! YOU take MY bag and keep YOUR own!”

            “But I am fine, and you are n – “

            Upon seeing the expression that crossed Pleakley’s face, Jumba bit his lip. So Pleakley wanted to be strong under pressure, Jumba realized. It was not Pleakley’s strong suit at all. He wanted to be fine, and he wanted the water to be under the bridge. Accepting any form of comfort would force him to deal with his insecurity up close. “We switch bags,” Jumba decided, not entirely settled with the fact that he would end up with the fuller bag. But then again, he thought, why should that matter to him? Someone as evil as himself should certainly revel in getting the better haul of candy, no matter how emotionally scarred his companion was! He decided to put it out of mind as bags were traded.

            “You know, I’ve really got a taste for this Earth candy,” Pleakley admitted. “I know it’s junk food, and Nani will probably put her foot down about having too much of it in the house after Halloween, but it’s just so mouth-wateringly delicious!”

            “Could always hide candy from Nani,” Jumba suggested.

            “You’re right!” Pleakley realized. “There’s plenty of room in the dresser!”

            “The dresser? HA!” Jumba cackled. “You think too small, little one-eyed friend! Can think of at least five places in room that, when combined with genius technology, could be converted into hiding spot for stash of junk food! Could very easily install…for a price.”

            “What are we talking?”

            “Access to fifty percent.”

            “What happened to being annoyed with chewing food?” Pleakley countered.

            Jumba shrugged. “Is Earth necessity.”

            “Well, it was your idea…okay. Fifty percent. But don’t let me catch you taking more than your share!”

            “Am evil,” Jumba reminded him. “Can make no promises.”

            At the last house of the night, the old man who answered the door just shrugged. “Might as well get rid of the leftovers,” he said as he split an entire bowl between the two bags.

            When the door closed, Pleakley crowed, “I KNEW this was a good idea!”


	4. Thanks Again for Agreeing to Marry Me

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Jumba asked.

            Pleakley weighed the circular phone in his hand as he sat perched on the edge of his bed. “I have to talk to her sooner or later. And the more ‘later’ it gets, the more she’s going to stay my worst fear.” He inhaled deeply, then let it out in a brisk breath. “I’m calling her now.”

            “Then I shall leave you to it,” Jumba said as he moved toward the door. “Give you privacy and all.”

            The moment he shut the door, he pressed up against it to be able to hear through the wood.

            Passing through the hall, Lilo witnessed Jumba’s attempt to eavesdrop. “Jumba?” she greeted. “What are you doing?”

            “Pleakley is calling mother and telling him all that happened since we came to Earth to pursue 626,” Jumba answered softly. “He has been nervous about this for days. Am listening to hear how well it goes.”

            “I would think he’d want privacy for that,” Lilo commented.

            “What he does not know will not kill him,” Jumba replied. “Am curious to hear result. Will mother Pleakley react in calm and rational manner, or will Pleakley become eternal black sheep of family? Is kind of exciting!”

            “Lemme hear!” Lilo pressed her own ear to the door.

            From the other side, they could hear a muffled but distinct “Yes…well, actually, that’s kind of why I called…I’m on Earth now!...no, actually, for a different reason…well…you see…I was…um…I was…okay, okay! I was fired by the Council! Are you happy?...You’re not happy…”

            Pleakley related the whole story, and from what Lilo and Jumba could hear, the reaction on the other end of the line wasn’t as auspicious as Pleakley could have hoped.

            “I’m sorry, okay?” he burst out. “Yes, there is a ship here, but I can’t make a move without the Council getting mad at me…I just…I’m sorry I failed, okay?...I know…I KNOW…”

            “It sounds like it’s going bad,” Lilo whispered.

            “Perhaps could still turn around?” Jumba suggested.

            From behind the door: “No, I can’t visit you…well, no, I don’t think anyone would stop you from visiting me, but…wait, why would you want to?...but I thought…really? You really think that?...well, yes, I know, but…”

            “I think is turning around!” Jumba whispered.

            “Well, I…” Pleakley continued. “That…that really means a lot to me…you don’t know…” His voice became pronouncedly choked. “No, I’m not crying…I just…yes…yes, I’ll call more often, I promise…I didn’t mean to scare you; I just thought you’d be disappointed…I know you are…okay. I won’t take up more of your time…yeah, you too.”

            The door opened. Jumba and Lilo backed up against the opposite wall, giving twin grins of feigned innocence. Their actions had been painfully obvious. Pleakley pointed an accusing finger in their direction; “Don’t think I didn’t know you two were listening.”

            “Does your mom hate you?” Lilo asked bluntly.

            “No,” Pleakley answered, trying to blink the obvious signs of crying away from his eye. “She’s definitely disappointed, but she also said she was just glad to hear from me, and she…still loves me.” The corner of his mouth turned up into a relieved smile. “All in all, it went a lot better than I thought it would! Now I just have to actually make good on calling her back more often. But after this, it should be a breeze!”

            “You still think mother is worst fear?” Jumba asked.

            “Oh, please!” Pleakley waved a dismissive hand. “Everything’s perfectly fine between us now! What could go wrong?”

 

* * *

 

            What could go wrong was Pleakley’s mother calling him back every week. And at first, it was merely to check in. But the longer the communication went on, the clearer it became that she wanted something very specific: for Pleakley to settle down with a wife.

            It had taken a turn for the worst when Lilo suggested Pleakley lie to her and claim his hand was already spoken for. Pleakley, at the time, thought desperate times only called for desperate measures; his mother had found a bride for him, a woman willing to join an arranged marriage with someone she never knew. And apparently, this woman was also ready to enter a binding relationship with someone who couldn’t leave Earth without the Galactic Council taking notice. Pleakley, on the other hand, was repulsed by the thought of marrying any woman, let alone the stranger his mother had picked out (who Jumba, Lilo, and Stitch had all agreed wasn’t a looker anyway, though Pleakley’s ability to judge what was attractive on women and what wasn’t barely existed).

            That had brought Pleakley’s mother and siblings right to his door to witness the wedding. In desperation, the group of liars had singled out Nani as the actress to play his fiancée. And in the background of all of this, the latest experiment Lilo and Stitch had rescued and brought home was a lie detector who emitted a grating buzz every time an untruth was spoken anywhere in the house.

            Nani was on board with the plan at first, but upon hearing that Pleakley’s mother had arranged for a Las Vegas minister to make the wedding legally binding, she had declared herself out. That left Lilo and Stitch with few options to replace her.

            Well, really, just one option.

            As Pleakley lay on his bed, trying not to have an utter panic attack, his double heart rate was done absolutely no good by the sudden bursting of Lilo, Stitch, and Jumba into the room. “Nani quit the fake marriage!” Lilo announced.

            “WHAT?” Pleakley shrieked. “Ohhh, this is bad. This is very, very bad – “

            “It okay!” Stitch insisted. “We have solution!”

            “What SOLUTION do you have to get out of this?” Pleakley asked frantically, pulling his pillow round front to hug it nervously.

            “We just need you to marry somebody else!” Lilo announced proudly.

            “Who else is there around here for me to marry?” Pleakley snapped. “Jumba?”

            There was a pause before Jumba said, “Am going to need your help crafting wedding dress in my size.”

            “Now is NOT the time for jokes!” Pleakley moaned.

            “Is no joke,” Jumba insisted. “Am going to marry you. Know family will not approve of you marrying man, so will dress as woman. Maybe see what you see in wearing skirts.”

            “Wh…” Pleakley was stunned silent for a moment.

            “It’s one of those plans that’s so crazy, it’s gotta work!” Lilo boasted. “Right?”

            “…This is never gonna work,” Pleakley insisted. “They’ll see RIGHT through you.”

            “Am only option left,” Jumba told him. “Would not look mouth horse in gift.”

            “It’s ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,’” Lilo corrected.

            “That does not make sense,” Jumba told her.

            “Well…it’s risky, but it’s better than nothing,” Pleakley sighed. “I just wish I knew why Nani backed out. It was a no-risk plan! After my family left, things would just go back to normal!”

            “Actually, they couldn’t,” Lilo informed him. “Your mom got a real minister to do the ceremony. You and Nani were going to be legally married, so Nani wouldn’t do it.”

            “Ih,” Stitch confirmed.

            “A real minister?” Pleakley repeated. He then fixed his eye on Jumba; “But that means YOU’RE going to be legally married to me.”

            “Am sorry if you had other plan for love life,” Jumba said with a shrug.

            “ME have other plans?” Pleakley repeated. “What about YOU? You don’t seem to have any problem with this at all! Are you really that okay with marrying me?”

            “Well, I look at it this way,” Jumba told him. “I plan never to be in romantic relationship again. Too messy. Been there, done that, hated it. Thus, no marriage to anyone I love, because will love no one that way. So, if must get married, why not to person I like? Was not planning to spend marriage on anybody else. Is not as if much will change. We already share room.”

            Something about this struck Pleakley just right in the center of his second heart, and he clutched the pillow more tightly, but with a smile spreading over his face. “You’d really get legally married to me just to impress my family?”

            “You talk like it is huge sacrifice,” Jumba replied. “Is probably bigger sacrifice for you.”

            “Well, who do I have to marry here on Earth anyway?” Pleakley pointed out. “I’m really married to my Earth studies. You’re a pretty good person to be married to, all things considered.”

            “My thought exactly!” Jumba said gleefully. “But seriously, am going to need assistance with dress.”

            “Of course!” Spirits lifted, Pleakley set the pillow aside and scrambled out of bed, making a course for the sewing machine. It wouldn’t be his grandmother’s wedding dress – there was no way to give that one the proper adjustments – but Pleakley was confident he could whip up something elegant in pure white. He still had Jumba’s exact measurements written down from Halloween.

            As he set to trimming fabric, it only faintly occurred to him that he was perhaps more elated about this than he needed to be. Why was he so much happier now than when he’d been wrapped up in the Nani deception? Either way, he was going to satisfy his family and end their badgering forever. And he would never have to tell them the truth about his romantic pursuits.

            It must just have been all they were through together, Pleakley thought. Perhaps, in a way, he could consider himself and Jumba “married” already. But purely platonically, he added hastily within his mind. Nani was unmistakably a permanent part of his ohana, but he and Jumba were closer without contest. That must be it, Pleakley resolved. That must be the reason the prospect was making him nearly giddy. A good friendship would do that.

 

* * *

 

            In the end, the wedding hadn’t taken place. It had been interrupted first by David, then by Gantu come to capture the experiment 032, then by the revelation that experiment 032 was a lie detector who had been pointing out every single untruth Pleakley had been feeding his family all along.

            That had been an uncomfortable conversation.

            But in the end, it had turned out that every declaration they made degrading his worth was also a lie. 032 had been a life-saver in that regard. The entire Pleakley family parted on good terms, though something about the whole incident still bothered Jumba, something he made a note of to ask about later that night.

            The entire wedding farce gelled into a story to laugh about after it had passed. And Lilo, Stitch, Nani, Pleakley, and Jumba had a good laugh about it all over dinner. Then came the onset of night, and Pleakley and Jumba settled into their beds, not to sleep, but to indulge in what had become a nightly routine of conversing about whatever came to mind before they fell asleep; somehow, they never seemed to run out of things to discuss.

            “THAT was a fiasco,” Pleakley began, almost laughing.

            “Guess plan actually was too crazy to work,” Jumba admitted.

            “Hey, they bought you as my fiancée,” Pleakley reminded him. “It was just Fibber who got in the way. And David. And Gantu. And everything else that could have conceivably gone wrong.”

            “Is true!”

            “I’m just glad to know they accept me as I am,” Pleakley sighed contentedly.

            He was surprised to hear Jumba comment, “Well…almost.”

            “What do you mean, almost?”

            “You still did not tell family most important secret,” Jumba reminded him. “About you liking musical chairs.”

            “Me being gay, you mean.”

            “Yes.”

            Pleakley sighed, this time less contentedly. “That’s…still something I have to keep a secret for now. They wouldn’t get it. I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t make them stop loving me now, but it just needs to wait for another time. Maybe after they get used to the concept hearing about it somewhere else.”

            “Is interesting. You have not told Nani, 626, or little girl either.”

            “I wasn’t even supposed to tell you,” Pleakley reminded him. “It slipped out. I know they’d still love me too, but I just think it’s better if nobody has to deal with that whenever they look at me.”

            “Fair enough. I think at very least, Earth ohana would have no qualms.”

            “I’ll tell them. When I’m ready.”

            “Fair enough,” Jumba resolved. “When you are ready.”

            “Hey, uh…” Pleakley changed gears rather nervously. “Thanks again for agreeing to marry me to convince my family.”

            “For last time, is no big sacrifice. I do not see why is such a big deal.”

            “It’s just so ridiculous!” Pleakley reiterated. “You and I would have ended up being ACTUALLY MARRIED!”

            “That we would. Way you talk about it, almost sounds as if that is what you wanted from start.”

            “Oh, no, no, no,” Pleakley defended quickly. “Nothing like that.”

            A quick flash of memory he couldn’t erase: Gantu crashing the wedding. Chaos abounding. And Pleakley leaping at Jumba, who had caught him and carried him. That had been Pleakley’s instinct regarding what would make him feel safe. Remembering that, and the twinge of guilt he’d felt over forcing that obviously painful ring onto Jumba’s hand.

            “I mean, I just think you’re a very good friend,” Pleakley went on. “I know, I know, we’re family. And that’s it. It’s nothing more than that.”

            If Fibber had still been in the house, he would have buzzed.


	5. What's After This?

It had been ten years since everything had fallen apart.

            The domino that had tipped the chain, everyone thought, was when Captain Gantu had acquired experiment 228: the melter. Even Jumba had underestimated the power of 228; he was an early-series product and not meant to have the destructive capabilities of later models. But with 228 (who Jumba was sure Lilo would have given a quirky nickname, perhaps “Melty”) in his possession, Gantu had been able to first melt his way into the detention facility holding Hämsterviel, then launch an attack on the Council itself that left most of its key members, including the Grand Councilwoman herself, lost among the squelching remains of a melted facility.

            As for the Pelekai household, Lilo, Stitch, Nani, and David had been lost a long time ago. 228 had managed to destroy the Pelekai house at the same time that Gantu made wreckage of Nani’s new place of employment, the Birds of Paradise Hotel, before the two collided. The financial strain put on the family was impossible to recover from, and Lilo was taken into custody by Cobra Bubbles once Nani was no longer able to provide her a home. Nani had then gone her own way from Jumba and Pleakley, unable to host them either. But all that was before the war had begun. Once Hämsterviel took power, he razed Earth, rooting out all of his enemies. Lilo, Stitch, and Nani were by no means safe. David was reportedly lost trying to protect Nani. The threat of Bubbles was eliminated as well.

            Every single experiment of Jumba’s creation had fallen into Hämsterviel’s hands. On top of that, Hämsterviel had put together an army of android warriors to serve his command and protect his reign. His prison facility, where he kept those he took hostage for informational purposes or simply to condemn them to long and painful fates, was swarming with them.

            So it had been for ten years. For the first five, Jumba and Pleakley had laid low. But then something had happened to make that impossible.

            That brought on the day that Jumba allied himself with the resistance, for where there is corruption in the seat of power, there is always a resistance. A pack of about twenty had managed to break into Hämsterviel’s prison facility; Jumba, at their lead, laid out a map in a safe alcove for the others to see his scheme.

            “As you can see,” he explained, adjusting the eye patch that covered where his rightmost eye, “patrols are very routine. Is problem with using androids instead of biological creations. If experiments were in charge of prison facility, we would be in deep trouble, but as is, we should be able to avoid guards with minimal incident. Once again proof that I was actual brains half of partnership with Hämsterviel back in day! All he can make is robots!” He traced pathways through the corridors. “Nori, take this route from thirty degrees, as spoke of. Remember pattern of patrol. Five minutes per round. Eeland, you are making way to opposite direction of facility…”

            The other members of the resistance listened raptly. Jumba would have questioned exactly how he’d gone from a self-proclaimed villain to the leader of a group of do-gooders. But the answer was obvious. It had all been building to this moment: when they’d amassed the numbers and the skill to break into and out of the prison facility. For five years, Jumba had awaited such a day’s arrival, and hope surged through his veins, charging him with energy as he doled out assignments.

            “And that concludes plan,” he said definitively. “We should have by that point broken out all key hostages and returned them to rendez-vous point. Our ship takes off back to base through roundabout route with TWO hyperdrive jumps, and by time Hämsterviel notices what we have done, will never be able to track us.”

            “I have one question,” Nori, a young blue-furred woman with large ears, asked. “You outlined everyone’s assignments except for yours. What are you going to be doing?”

            What he’d meant to do for half a decade. “Is not your business, Nori. Trust in leader. Will meet you at rendez-vous when all is done. Then all will be clear.”

            “You’re not going to look for him, are you?” Nori asked.

            “I said is not your – “

            “Jumba,” Nori stated concernedly, “he was taken five years ago. There’s no way he’s still alive. I know you want him to be here, but – “

            “Nori!” Jumba growled. “Are you leader or not?”

            “No…” Nori admitted.

            “Then do not be telling leader what to do or not to do!” Jumba warned her. “Did not even say plan had anything to do with that! You think I do not know how to let go?”

            But he didn’t. And he was looking for exactly what she had accused him of. But there was no proof that what she’d said about the odds of survival of the one he sought. Until he had definitive proof that it was a lost cause, he wasn’t about to cash in the chips.

            “I’m sorry I spoke out of turn,” Nora apologized.

            “We all have assignments,” Jumba concluded. “Now GO!”

            The resistance dispersed, expertly evading the androids’ patrols by taking advantage of their weak spots. Jumba put his trust in the others that they would succeed in their parts; he had his own mission to fulfill. The data he’d stolen from a regime ship told of the locations of several hostages who had meant a great deal to the Council. But most importantly, it had labeled the holding cell of a name Jumba had almost given up hope of ever seeing: the name of someone taken in personally by Gantu to get information out of five years prior. If he was dead, Jumba thought, why would his cell still be labeled?

            He awaited the passing of the last patrol before his destination was reached. He would have to be quick, he thought as he hid around the corner from that final hallway. In this bloc, they would only give him three minutes to get inside the holding cell.

            The android stormed past, making its way to the other end of the hall. Jumba had one hand on the blaster in his hip holster in case things went sour. He charged, as quickly as he could go, easily locating the control pad for the cell doors. A small electronic device of his own design fitted over the pad hacked into its internal mechanisms and displayed the override code, which he entered as soon as it was visible. The cell door slid open.

            By the time the android came stomping down the hall, the cell door was closed again and Jumba inside of it, with the robot none the wiser.

            Closing the three eyes he had left, Jumba rested his back against the door. Thankfully, Hämsterviel had opted to build his prison’s cells with metal walls instead of the Council-standard strengthened glass; that meant he could be inside the cell as long as he wanted without being detected. Half the battle was won, which he could barely bring himself to believe until he heard the voice from above, saying weakly: “J…Jumba? Is that you?”

            Hämsterviel had kept one of the Council’s designs when putting together his prison. The captured was encased in the ceiling, suspended upside-down with only his head visible. Jumba remembered just how much of a headache he’d gotten from that position when Hämsterviel had kept him in it for a night. He couldn’t imagine being trapped that way for five years.

            He pried his eyes open, afraid that what he’d heard might have been a trick of the mind, that the information he’d been given was outdated. But he was validated immediately by the sight: there, suspended from the ceiling, looking at him with an expression of awe that he was sure matched his own, was Wendy Pleakley.

            “Are…you really there?” Pleakley asked softly. “Or am…am I hallucinating…”

            “Is no hallucination,” Jumba assured him, crossing quickly to the keypad on the wall that would release the ceiling mechanism. “Brace self. Am going to let you down.”

            His device hacked the keypad’s code; Pleakley was dropped from the ceiling, landing in Jumba’s waiting arms. At this proximity, Jumba took notice of just how weathered Pleakley appeared. His skin sagged, his single eye was bleary, his clothing was tattered. If only, Jumba thought, he had been able to get there sooner. But he had been trying to follow since the moment Pleakley had been taken, and only been able to reach him again at that very moment. It felt like a miracle, to be able to touch him again, cradle him closely.

            “This is real,” Pleakley realized, blinking to try and focus on Jumba’s face.

            “Is very real,” Jumba told him. “Now hold on. We are going to escape prison. Need you not to make a sound until – “

            “No,” Pleakley said, suddenly seized by a sense of urgency. “We can’t. No…you can. But I can’t.”

            “And whyever not? I have patterns of androids timed out to second. All else fails, am well-armed.”

            “I won’t make it,” Pleakley insisted, his voice cracking.

            “What do you mean, you will not MAKE it?”

            “I mean I…I’m not gonna make it!” Pleakley raised his voice as much as he was able, which, in his current state, wasn’t much. “I haven’t had food or water in…I don’t even remember. I knew it was going to be today. I didn’t know you were going to show up, or I…I…I don’t know what I would have done, but…I can already feel it. I’m just getting…so tired…”

            Jumba finally understood what Pleakley was driving at, and it chilled him to the spine. “No,” he argued, panic creeping into his voice. “No, no, no. Is going to be all right. I am here. I made it in time. We will take you back to base, where we will fix everything wrong with you – “

            “There’s…not enough time…Jumba, I’m scared…”

            “What is there to be scared of? You will be fine!”

            “Scared,” Pleakley repeated, losing focus. “Tired…can’t even…” His eye shut, then snapped back open; he tried to flutter the lid to keep himself awake just a moment longer. “What…what’s after this?”

            The miracle was broken, shattered into shining shards scattered across the floor. It had taken Jumba five years, and he’d come too late by only a scarce few moments. There had to be something he could do to prolong the inevitable, he thought. Anything.

            He knew the life held in his arms was slipping away as he stood there. Should he make a mad dash for the rendez-vous point? Cut the waiting times, gun down the androids? Leave without the rest of his team if need be?

            Pleakley’s ragged breathing indicated he didn’t even have long enough to try.

            He knelt and lay Pleakley across the floor, propping his head up with the crook of one arm while using the other to clutch Pleakley’s delicate hand. “Please, not to be frightened,” Jumba said, though he himself was becoming hollowed out by horror. “After this…will be all right. Nani, 626, little girl…they are all there already. You will see ohana again long before I will.” He wasn’t even sure he believed in an afterlife, but for Pleakley’s sake, he had to give hope. “I…am sorry I was too late.”

            “It’s…” Pleakley trailed off, stammering the “T” slightly. He tried again. “It’s…okay.” His free hand reached up, trembling violently. “I…I lo…”

            The arm crashed to the ground limply. Pleakley’s eye closed.

            “No,” Jumba cried. “No, no, no!” He felt for signs of life: a pulse, a heartbeat, breathing. There was none to be found. It had all been in vain; he’d searched for Pleakley for so long only to let him be lost in such a tortured manner, to neglect and starvation at the hands of the enemy after years of suffering. If he’d gotten there sooner –

            If he’d been able to stop Pleakley from being captured in the first place –

            But there was no value in “if.” He was alone in the room.

            He also knew what Pleakley had been trying to say in his final moments. Thinking over the statement, Jumba softly said, as though Pleakley could still hear him, “So did I, to you.”

            He briefly considered taking the body back with him, but that posed a risk he couldn’t chance. Why hinder his ability to draw his weapon for the sake of carrying around a lifeless shell? For sentiment? He let Pleakley’s body down upon the floor, standing.

            What was he going to tell the other members of the resistance? The question briefly occurred to Jumba, but he found he didn’t care. It was the absolute least of the horror that had happened.

            He knew he had to regain focus and control, or he wouldn’t be able to escape the facility alive. Did he even want to? It took some thought. Yes, he did. There was still too much to be done. He opened the cell door, prepared to make his escape.

            Five androids had their blasters trained on him.

            Without thinking, Jumba drew his own weapon and opened fire.

            He escaped the facility alive, meeting up with the other members of the resistance and those they’d saved, able to travel back to their base without being tracked. But not before he lost another of his eyes in the fracas.

 

* * *

 

            The resistance had employed a tactic of hiding in plain sight. While Hämsterviel’s regime sought them out on small and distant planets, they convened on Earth itself: the place Hämsterviel believed he’d burned down so thoroughly, there was no way he couldn’t see for miles in any direction. The base itself, a cinderblock and concrete behemoth, stood on the grounds of a symbolic landmark, one that had marked the beginning of the end. To commemorate its origins, the words “Birds of Paradise Hotel” had been carved on a plaque near the entryway.

            The hostages were all inside the base, receiving food, water, and medical care at the expert hands of Nori and her comrades. Trusting his disciples, Jumba exited the scene, claiming to need air. He paced around the perimeter of the base, replaying the nightmare over and over in his mind. It wasn’t supposed to have ended like that. Even an hour sooner, and he could have saved Pleakley.

            He had failed. He had failed at the quest that had driven him to join the resistance in the first place, the quest that had motivated him to become their leader. There was any number of things that could be done to work toward a galaxy free of Hämsterviel’s iron grip, but what could Jumba possibly pursue with such fervor?

            As he rounded the corner to the front of the building, he was stricken by an impossible sight, one that made his heart skip a beat. Parked on the barren and lifeless ground was a surfboard attached to an engine: a contraption that looked remarkably like a time machine Jumba had once built, and that he had assumed was destroyed ten years ago by 228. And aboard this contraption were a young girl and a blue creature that most certainly was not a dog.

            “Experiment 626?” Jumba said in surprise. “You’re alive?” He couldn’t hold back the grin that spread out over his face. Perhaps one – no, two! – of the people he cared about had survived after all!

            Stitch replied with a flummoxed “IH?” Together, he and the girl who absolutely could not have been anyone but Lilo cranked a lever on the machine, which rose up into the air and disappeared, taking Lilo and Stitch with it.

            “Hum.” Jumba rubbed at his chin pensively. “Was that my time-surfing board?”

            His mind became alive with thoughts of possibility and opportunity. Lilo had appeared as she’d been when he last saw her, ten years ago. Obviously, she was not ageless. She and Stitch must have been using the time machine to gallivant about. What if they had been in possession of it from the beginning? What if 228’s destruction of it was not the reason it had disappeared?

            No, Jumba recalled; he had definitely seen the congealed remains of the machine. But that didn’t rule out the possibility that Lilo and Stitch had been using it beforehand. Perhaps “if” did factor into the equation after all. Because if they had somehow altered the fabric of time in their travels –

            Then the future Jumba was living shouldn’t have existed at all.

            It was a possibility almost too good to be true. Hämsterviel wouldn’t win. The Council would never be overtaken. The ones Jumba loved wouldn’t die en masse. He wouldn’t lose Pleakley.

            But that was a big maybe. Jumba had no proof. The errant time travelers had made a guilty retreat before he could get any answers out of them as to what was going on. If he wanted to get those answers, he would have to find them himself. Delve into history, analyze for anomalies. And if he found anything, he would have to recreate the time machine and bring it back to Lilo and Stitch after the original was destroyed so they had the means to fix things – and, of course, he would have to convince them to actually fix things. Obtaining the proper materials would probably take him another decade, and that was if he found anything at all. Trying to change the past of a future that should have happened after all was an incredibly dangerous endeavor, and could end up making an even more grandiose disaster out of the galaxy, though it hardly seemed possible to project as to how things could get any worse. Jumba could only act if he could absolutely prove that his future was born of meddling.

            His fire had been lit once more.

           

* * *

 

            A decade was not an overestimation. There were times Jumba counted himself lucky to have not lost a third eye in the span of time since he had seen the wayward time travelers that had restored his hope.

            He had managed to isolate an anomaly tracing back to the very first moment he had made Lilo and Stitch aware of the time machine. Those rascals had taken it for a joyride the moment he left them alone with it, and the future he was living now was a result of it. How many times had they rewritten history? Jumba couldn’t tell. They had obviously been stopped when 228 had destroyed the time machine, preventing them from giving anything another try, or else they would have moved Turo and Earth to undo their mistake. Of that, Jumba was sure.

            After that, he had undertaken the quest of rebuilding the machine in order to present it to them in the past. He had quit the resistance to devote himself to the task. The last he’d heard, Nori had successfully led an entire planet to freedom via rebellion; he was as proud of her as he would have been of a daughter.

            As the years passed and Jumba’s focus became fixing things, his pain lessened. He was able to move on from what he had continually referred to as “the nightmare”: the raid on the prison facility. Figuring it was time to occupy his heart with the affections of someone else, he used his down time from recreating the time machine to forge an android of his own: a companion. A wife. He had reverted to a female design out of a desire for a change. After all, despite his fixation on changing the past, he wished not to dwell in it.

            And the fact that he had designed her to be Plorgonarian in shape rather than Kweltikwan meant nothing.

            Eventually, she had left him too, after hijacking what little funds he had squirreled away. Was it a glitch left over in the programming, as he’d taken most of her firmware from Hämsterviel’s patrol droids and modified it to create the AI? Or was it just his fate that every female partner he’d ever had would betray him somehow? It was not worth wasting time over-analyzing.

            When the final part was settled into place on the second iteration of the time machine, it was a moment of utter disbelief. Somehow, despite pursuing this moment doggedly for year after year, Jumba hadn’t quite believed he would succeed. There was a moment in which he just held the machine in hand, looking it over.

            He snapped himself out of it. It was time to act. There would be no trial run. The first test would be the only test.

 

* * *

 

            At the end of the corridor of swirling colors, the bright sunlight of Hawaii before the Hämsterviel takeover burst into radiance. The surfboard came to a halt before a bewildered Lilo and Stitch, both of whom were sitting before the ruin of a melted house.

            Upon seeing them, Jumba cried out, “LITTLE GIRL! 626! I have arrived to saved your behinds!” Not to mention my own, he thought, and everyone else in the galaxy, but they didn’t need to know that part yet.

            “Jumba?” Stitch greeted with curiosity.

            Lilo’s face lit up. “You brought us a new time machine!”

            “It has taken me DECADES to realize what has happened here so long ago!” Jumba announced. “From the day I showed you my time surfer, fabric of time was altered. House melted, our little family broken beyond repair, I lost two of my eyesights and…yeeegghhh.” He shuddered at the brief recollection of the nightmare, though now he was more easily able to shrug it off. “Don’t even ask what happened to Pleakley.”

            He explained as best he could without going into the gritty details. Lilo confirmed his suspicions; she and Stitch had been editing time with the surfer so that Lilo could avoid embarrassing herself in front of a crush. Jumba made clear what the pair had to do: return to the divergence point and recreate the events of the first history exactly. Lilo protested, not wanting to humiliate herself in front of the boy.

            It was at that point that Jumba should have been furious. It was only natural for one to become incensed when the fate of the galaxy was at stake and one of those who held that fate in their hands was more concerned with her image in front of a boy she would likely no longer care about next year. Yet Jumba found he was not at all angry. Lilo was young. Of course she was wont to consider public humiliation tantamount to the end of the world. And, more importantly, even after twenty years, Jumba missed her. He loved her; she was his niece in all but blood. He wanted to assuage her insecurities.

            “A broken time strand can only be fixed by reliving exactly,” he told her. “But more important is accepting of your mistake. If you are dwelling in past, you cannot be living in present, and will lose sight of future.” Now, where had all that fatherly wisdom come from? He’d spent too much time looking after Nori and the other members of the resistance.

            He ushered Lilo and Stitch to the second mark of the time machine, joking, “Now, get going before something melts this machine too!” At that, he had to laugh. He had escaped the Hämsterviel-dominated future and given Lilo and Stitch the hope with which to prevent it. Why not laugh about it? “Go, go!”

            “Thanks, Jumba!” Lilo said with a wave as Stitch kicked the controls into gear.

            “Good luck, little girl!” Jumba replied, waving at her himself; she and Stitch vanished into the ether with a brilliant glow. If all went well, he would never know. The very timeline he stood in would cease to exist; he would never have been. It was now only a matter of time until the end came and a better future arose in its place.

            An all-too-familiar voice sounded from behind him: “What are you doing here?”

            At first, Jumba was stricken with a chill; he’d forgotten to activate the machine’s paradox inhibitor, and he had just been addressed by himself from the past. Then, like everything else, the entire situation simply became hilarious. So he turned around to face himself. “I have come to give you warning,” he said cryptically. As he paced a semicircle around his past self, he growled, “Whatever you do, do not build robot wife! Too easy for them to hack into bank account!”

            The Jumba of the past put his hand to his mouth thoughtfully, considering that.

            The sounds of two more voices came from down the drive. “I just don’t see how we’re going to get through this,” one groaned.

            “Just whatever you do, don’t panic!” the other squeaked. “Now is not the time for panicking! You have to remain completely calm, or everything will fall apart! YOU HEAR ME? DON’T PANIC, NANI! DO! NOT! PANIC!”

            “You’re the one who’s panicking. Don’t tell me you would be calmer if I’d actually let you buy that wet/dry vacuum.”

            Jumba (the one of the future) pivoted in a quick motion to look in the direction of the approaching voices. It was an incredulous relief to once again be in a reality where not only Lilo and Stitch were alive and well, but Nani.

            That, however, wasn’t the voice that made his heart leap.

            “Okay,” Pleakley told Nani as the two came into view; his breathing was becoming more regulated and his voice less panicked. “We can figure this out. We’ll start by getting you another job. While we work on that, we can just sleep outside. It’ll be like camping!”

            “It won’t be like camping,” Nani groaned.

            The pair came to a sharp halt upon seeing the double Jumbas. Completely deadpan, Pleakley asked, “Okay, time travel or cloning?”

            “Time travel,” the Jumba of the present stated. “I think. Do not remember making clone of self. If I did, would be much less ugly than that.”

            “Is time travel,” the Jumba of the future confirmed. This possibility hadn’t even occurred to him. Pleakley was alive, and standing before him, albeit regarding him with a look of utter annoyance. He’d missed that look. He wanted to rush and scoop Pleakley up into his arms, hold him tightly, never let go again.

            Maybe he never had let go. Robot wife notwithstanding.

            But the Jumba of the future knew that would be crossing a line; not even the Jumba of this present was close enough to do that yet. It would also be a dead giveaway of the nightmare’s occurrence. He opted to go a different direction; after all, what did he have to lose? The entire present was going to be erased soon anyway. He faced his past self, gesturing toward Pleakley. “Other important piece of advice,” he told his past self. “Can avoid a lot of mess if you just tell this one you love hi – “

            At that very moment, the timeline winked out of existence.

 

* * *

 

            228 had been brought to the aluminum scrap yard to begin a career melting down garbage. Nani floated through the house, singing happily to herself after her first day of work at the Birds of Paradise Hotel. Lilo and Stitch were playing quietly in their room.

            Pleakley had declared a celebratory dinner be arranged for Nani; he was already in the process of putting pans on the stove. Nani had begged him to wait for her to begin any of the actual cooking; somehow, putting the pair’s mediocre talents at food preparation together resulted in something decent. So Pleakley sat back in a kitchen chair, watching pots not boil while Nani changed into more casual attire.

            As Jumba passed the kitchen, he was possessed by a strange feeling. Peering into the kitchen, he asked Pleakley, “You ever get this feeling like déja vu, but has not happened yet?”

            “Like getting a strangely clear vision of something terrible but probably impossible?” Pleakley replied casually.

            “Yes. Like that exactly.”

            “Funny you should bring that up. I was having these really weird thoughts about the house melting down earlier.”

            “With 228 on loose, is not so strange,” Jumba commented. “On other hand, I for some reason am running hypothetical of what it would look like if Hämsterviel somehow conquered galaxy.”

            They looked to each other, then shrugged. “It’s been a long day,” Pleakley stated.

            “Has it?” Jumba replied. “Is only early evening. Day not very eventful.”

            “Huh. You’re right. It sure FEELS like it’s been a long day.”

            “All right!” Nani strode into the hall, clapping her hands. “Who’s ready to get cooking?”

            And all discussion of exactly why the day had felt so long was forgotten.


	6. In This House, We Recycle Our Paper

“Dear Jumba,”

            No. Already, that was wrong. It was too formal. Or was it too casual? It didn’t sound like the greeting people would use who were as close to each other as Jumba and Pleakley were.

            “Jumba,”

            Well, now that was wrong, too. Dropping the “dear” made it seem so impersonal.

            Pleakley’s pen hovered over the paper as he wondered why he even thought this was a good idea. The realization he’d come to three days ago about his emotions was frightening enough as was. Putting them down on paper was risky. But he felt if he kept those feelings bottled up any longer, they would have to come out in some way. That, or he’d just make himself miserable.

            Acting on them, however, was out of the question. So he’d come up with the idea of the letter. Jumba would never read it. It was purely for Pleakley’s own benefit, to get the thoughts that now threatened to eat his mind in one swallow onto paper so they could perhaps be forgotten.

            He crossed out the greeting altogether and simply delved into the meat of the matter:

            “We’ve been roommates for a really long time now, and I have to say I couldn’t have asked for anyone better. I know I used to hate you back when we were first assigned to this world to capture Stitch, but now that I’ve gotten to know you, I’m really fond of you, and I’m glad you’re my friend.” He thought about it, crossed out “friend,” and wrote “family” instead.

            “But that’s the problem. Ever since the Fibber incident, I’ve had a lot of weird feelings I couldn’t explain. A few days ago, I realized exactly what it was I was feeling, and now it all makes sense! But it’s so ridiculous, and I don’t really think you’d like hearing it, that I can’t really tell you out loud.”

            Pleakley stopped. Lifted his pen to his mouth. Chewed the end a bit. Scratched out the entire paragraph starting with “But that’s the problem.” He started over: “I figured out something that I really can’t tell you, because I know you wouldn’t feel the same about me and you’d probably laugh at me for”

            No, no, no. The entire paper was crumpled up and shredded. He started over. No greeting. A short paragraph reiterating “I’m glad we’re roommates” and “I know I used to hate you…”. Then down to business:

            “I love how confident you are in yourself, especially because I’m not. (Confident in myself, I mean. I’m very confident in you!) I love being around you when you are so confident. It’s almost contagious. I love that I can talk to you about anything, and I hope you feel like you can talk to me about anything, because you can. I’ll listen! I love that you were willing to drop everything and marry me just to impress my family. I really just love how close we’ve gotten ever since we moved in together. I really feel safe when I’m around you, and I’m glad you’ve accepted me for who I am. I’m ready to accept you for who you are, too, though I think we have different ideas about who you are. Sure, you still think you’re an evil genius, and you’re not wrong on the ‘genius’ part. After all, you did create life from scratch. That’s not an easy thing to do! But I don’t really think you’re that evil. You’re not going to like hearing this (“hearing this” was crossed out and replaced with “reading this”), but I think you’re actually good inside, and I love seeing that too. There’s a part of you that really is kind and caring, whether you like it or not.

            “What I’m trying to say is that I think I’m falling for you.”

            There it was on the paper, and just looking at it, acknowledging it out loud in even such a private space, Pleakley felt as though his hearts were going to come right up out through his throat. Hand shaking, he forced himself to continue. Get it out of your system, he told himself. Once you get it on the paper, you won’t have to worry about these thoughts getting in the way when you see him in person, and you can just be platonic.

            “I just think there’s a whole lot about you to love. I just scratched the surface here. There’s also the way you find risks worth taking instead of just playing it safe, especially when something important is on the line. There’s the way you interact with Nani and Stitch and especially Lilo that reminds me of how good you can be to your family. With Lilo, I’d almost say you’re a really good dad, even if you do think a chainsaw is an appropriate toy. Maybe it was for you when you were that age, but Lilo could get hurt that way! And then there’s just how much you know. My studies of Earth honestly pale in comparison to your knowledge about most branches of science. You’re hardly ever wrong about that kind of thing, and I get proven wrong about Earth on what is starting to thankfully become a weekly basis rather than a daily one.

            “I could probably keep going for a few more pages, so I’ll stop. You just ended up being way more amazing than I ever thought you would be when I first met you, and I’m glad I know you. Thank you for being here with me.”

            The pen clicked closed. There it was, out on paper. Now to hide it where it could be forgotten about.

            Pleakley folded the letter not intended for the eyes of its recipient into thirds, stuffing it into his designated drawer in the dresser. He couldn’t tear it up. If he did that, then there would be no physical proof of his secret existing outside of himself, and he felt that way, he would never be able to overcome it.

            But Jumba could never know. He would never reciprocate the feelings, for one. He was straight, and more importantly, Pleakley was sure Jumba still viewed him as a “goody-three-shoes” with a side of “loudmouth” thrown in. And for another, Pleakley wasn’t so sure Jumba wouldn’t mock him for this, at least a little. Even a little mockery was more than Pleakley could stand when it came to this matter. It was volatile and delicate: a sphere of very fine glass waiting to explode into a million sharp shards if at all struck.

            And so the letter found its home among socks and undergarments generally regarded as being for women. There it stayed; Pleakley was sure that would be the last of it.

 

* * *

 

            But two days later, he found himself thinking about it all over again. Even the simplest conversations with Jumba were making both his hearts race. It wasn’t out of his system.

            So Pleakley found more private time to sequester himself in his room and write another letter.

            “Do you remember when I found out the hard way that mosquitoes are ruthless bloodsuckers? I know I complained a lot that you were applying the resulting bandages wrong, and that’s because you were, but lately, I’ve been remembering that and thinking about how much more gentle you were than I expected. That was also the night you told me you wondered what it was like to have nothing, not even memories. Why did you share that with me? You could have kept it to yourself. That was probably the first sign that we weren’t destined to be mortal enemies. Thinking back on it, I didn’t really have a reason to be scared of you, did I? And now I’m more than not scared of you. I might actually love you.”

            Folded into thirds, tucked away into the drawer with its brother, vowed to be the last of its kind.

 

* * *

 

            Pleakley should have known that letting his feelings onto paper was a mistake. Now he was addicted to it, stealing into the room at any quiet moment when he was sure he wouldn’t be interrupted so that he could write a new chapter in the saga:

            “I really was terrified when Gantu took you away. If I ever lost you forever, I don’t know what I’d do. There’d be a part of me that was lost forever too. I wouldn’t die without you, but I’d be pretty miserable. I can hardly imagine never being able to talk to you again…”

            “You know, sometimes you make me really mad. You could stand to make fun of me a lot less, and maybe not disagree with me for the sake of disagreeing. Don’t think I don’t know you do that! But in spite of all that, I still feel the same about you…”

            “Sometimes, you’re the kind of person I wish I could be. You never seem to have doubts about anything and you always know what you’re talking about. You’re an egomaniac, and that’s actually great! I second-guess myself a lot. You probably noticed. If I could have even half the confidence you do, I’d probably be a lot happier. I’m sorry if I drag you down, because that’s the last thing I ever want to do…”

            The pile in the back of the drawer became ever higher as Pleakley added onto it. How many letters now? Twenty? It had to stop at some point.

            So he made himself stop writing letters. Obviously, the process wasn’t doing what it was intended to. The next time he felt the urge to confess something about Jumba on paper, he would just hold it inside.

            He still didn’t destroy the letters.

 

* * *

 

            Nani stopped by the room when Pleakley was alone in it (reading magazines, not writing letters or any similar activity; he’d meant it when he resolved to stop) and set a garbage bag outside of the door. “Garbage day is tomorrow, and this one’s only half full,” she explained. “I’ve already been by Lilo and Stitch’s room. I’ll take any trash you have laying around in the bag and you can just drop it off outside my door before this evening.”

            “Well, thanks, Nani!” Pleakley replied cheerfully.

            As Nani moved off to other parts of the house, Pleakley scanned his quarters for trash that belonged in the bag. As his eye lit upon his sock-and-undergarment drawer, recollection of the secret letters hit him.

            What had he been thinking, trying to keep them in the very room where Jumba could discover them by accident? Those letters were volatile, and their potency only increased the longer Pleakley kept them around.

            Quickly, quietly, he retrieved every last one from the back of the drawer, stuffing them deep within the garbage bag. On top of that, he put a layer of other garbage from around the room, just to make sure they were buried.

            Out of sight, out of mind.

 

* * *

 

            Later that afternoon, when Jumba and Pleakley entered the room, they were engaged in a slight tiff.

            “All I’m saying is that I’m not having you getting dragged to the hospital for coronary artery disease,” Pleakley barked. “And it’s all well and good if there’s nothing invasive involved, but the moment they start operating, they’re going to KNOW you’re not human!”

            “You are worst-casing scenario,” Jumba groaned. “Coronary highly unlikely.”

            “So going from directly absorbing nutrients into your skin to stuffing your face with actual physical junk food isn’t going to have a negative effect on your physiology at aaaaaaall.”

            “If worst happens,” Jumba said with a shrug, “will simply operate on self.”

            “THAT’S your plan?”

            “You do not think I can do it?”

            “I think you’re not going to be in any CONDITION to do it! Hence the precaution!”

            “I helped you install snack stash in strategic locations in room in exchange for fifty percent access,” Jumba reminded him. “On diet you are proposing, you would have one hundred percent access. Is not fair!”

            “I’ll be cutting back DRASTICALLY,” Pleakley stated, not fully aware of how much of a lie that was. “We BOTH need to be more concerned with our health. And that’s why your access is denied, mister!”

            “Am not going to change eating habits because of overly worrying,” Jumba grunted. He kicked the trash bag. “This was bag Nani left earlier for garbage?”

            “Don’t you change the subject on me!”

            “Oh, I am changing subject!” Jumba insisted, hoisting up the bag. “And I am ending conversation! Am now taking out trash! Cannot fault me for that, can you?”

            Before Pleakley could get another word in, Jumba had scooped up the bag, stormed out of the room, and slammed the door behind him.

            As the door shut, it caught the end of the trash bag between door and frame. As Jumba tried to move forward with it, the entire bag split, splaying rubbish all over the hallway floor.

            Upon hearing the soft noise of the spill followed by Jumba’s cursing in Tantalog, Pleakley opened the door to find Jumba trying to gather up the trash. “Way to waste a perfectly good trash bag,” Pleakley huffed.

            “Was not my fault,” Jumba grumbled.

            “If you would watch what you were doing instead of focusing on how to avoid me, “ Pleakley sighed, lowering himself to the floor to begin picking up the scattered garbage, “none of this would’ve happened!”

            Jumba’s attention had been caught by a stray paper. “What is this?” he muttered to himself as he looked it over.

            “And another thing,” Pleakley continued. “I’m only trying to look out for your well-being here, so by ignoring ME, you’re really just ignoring – “

            He was cut off when he realized Jumba was muttering words. Familiar words.

            “After all, you did create life from scratch,” Jumba read out loud. “That is not easy thing to do. But I don’t really think you are that evil. You are not going to be liking reading this, but I think you are actually good inside, and I am loving seeing that too. There is part of you that really is kind and caring, whether you like it or not – “

            “NONONONONONO!” Pleakley shrieked, breaking into a chill. “DON’T READ THAT!”

            “What I am trying to say is that I think I am falling for you.” Jumba lowered the paper, looking at Pleakley in awe. “You wrote this?”

            “NO!”

            “Is your handwriting.”

            “It’s…it’s not what you think it is!”

            Jumba realized there were several other papers with writing on them scattered in his vicinity. He picked up another. “Sometimes, you are kind of person I wish I could be.”

            “Jumba. Please. I’m begging you, STOP!”

            Jumba had already picked up and rifled through the other surrounding papers. “These are about me,” he realized. “You wrote these things about me.”

            “Well, yes,” Pleakley admitted, “but it’s really not what you think!”

            “Oh?” Jumba regarded Pleakley with an utterly flummoxed expression. “Then what is?”

            Pleakley sighed. He briefly considered telling the truth. After all, he was able to tell Jumba practically anything else honestly. But this? He couldn’t bring himself to drag the truth to light. It was time for another lie. “So you know how our whole disguise is that we’re a married couple who came to live with our nieces Nani and Lilo after their parents died? Sometimes, I need practice getting into character for that. So I write fake love letters to you and try to sound as…married as possible. It’s just a big rehearsal trick. But it’s really embarrassing and I know it hardly sounds believable, and you were never supposed to find them.”

            “So you are not in love with me,” Jumba stated, just trying to get the facts in order.

            “No,” Pleakley told him, forcing an awkward laugh. “Goodness, no.”

            “But the reasons you list,” he said, brandishing one of the letters. “Those are not true either?”

            “Well…” Pleakley could at least admit this much. “I do base each letter on things I really like about our friendship. So a lot of it is true. Just not the part where I have any sort of romantic feeling for you whatsoever. Because that would just be ridiculous, wouldn’t it? I mean, why would I be into you? You’re SO not my type. No offense.”

            “None taken,” Jumba replied.

            “Anyway, I figured out how to pull off the act convincingly enough without needing to do the letters, so I stopped,” Pleakley concluded. “I was just hoping to get rid of them without an incident.”

            “Of course!” Jumba said casually. “Soon as retrieve new bag, can get this mess cleaned up, and will throw them out for you.”

            “Thanks for understanding,” Pleakley told him. “I almost thought that when you read those, you’d…get the wrong idea.” More accurately, that he’d get the right idea. The idea Pleakley just desperately wanted to keep hidden.

            “Is understandable,” Jumba told him as he rose to his feet. “Charade requires much practice. Idea I have is right one.”

            “I’ll just…let you go get that bag, then,” Pleakley said as he stood up and backed off into their room. Without waiting for a response from Jumba, he shut the door and plummeted onto his bed, burying his face in the pillow. That had been too close for comfort. And – Pleakley was trying not to overthink this – what if Jumba really had guessed the truth and was keeping it under wraps?

            Jumba, who was by that time heading to the kitchen to get a new bag, had no reason to disbelieve Pleakley’s explanation. He had been stunned to find the letters, but had not jumped to a conclusion right away, waiting to hear supporting evidence for any theory. Faking love letters was an odd method of getting into character, but what about Pleakley wasn’t odd?

            A thought struck Pleakley: one he should have realized as soon as he had been given the trash bag. He rushed after Jumba, who was retrieving a garbage bag from the kitchen.

            “You’re not going to throw out those letters,” Pleakley insisted.

            “And why not?” Jumba asked.

            “Because,” Pleakley told him, “in this house, we RECYCLE our paper!”

 

* * *

 

            Night had fallen. In the bunk below Jumba, Pleakley was fast asleep, wrapped up in his blankets like a caterpillar in a cocoon. Jumba waited it out; he wanted to make sure he was in isolation for what he was about to do.

            He rolled onto his side on the bed, pulling back the blanket to reveal the items he had hidden away. One was a flashlight, which he clicked on discreetly.

            The rest of the pile consisted of the letters he had never actually disposed of.

            Even though Jumba believed Pleakley had written them platonically, all as part of an act, he hungered to read their contents. As his quadruple eyes traveled the length of each line, he was filled with a sort of happiness that he couldn’t recall having known for quite some time. Of course, he had been happy many times, very recently, but not in this particular flavor.

            The things Pleakley had said in each letter were nothing short of sweet. Jumba might even have called it flattery if not for the fact that he knew these letters were never meant to reach his eyes. No one had said such things about him that he could recall. There was a time when his courtship with the woman he had married and then divorced truly was romantic, but even then, he could not remember her ever having said anything so kind toward him, not in this quantity.

            He didn’t stop until he’d visually ingested every last letter. It left him feeling light on the inside. He almost forgot for a moment that the romantic undertone was a farce (at least, according to Pleakley’s cover-up story). When that realization did come back to him, he still felt satisfied with what he had read.

            Carefully, he climbed down the ladder separating the two beds, opening his own drawer to store the letters in the back. They would be extra safe from Pleakley’s eyes. For one, Pleakley wasn’t a snoop. But for another, Jumba was planning on using the same drawer to hide a private accumulation of chocolate macaroons – Pleakley had talked him into a healthier diet after all, but he was going to keep his workarounds. If the drawer was rooted around in, Pleakley would find the macaroons before the letters, and that would distract him enough to not look any further.

            Perhaps it was duplicitous of Jumba to hide the letters away after he’d claimed to have thrown them out. But what could the harm be? He simply wanted to be able to look back upon them and read the highly complimentary things Pleakley had said about him.

            Jumba ascended back into bed, this time intending to sleep. As his mind drifted, he entertained himself with a new hypothetical. Obviously, he had never seen the need to entrench himself into the “married human couple” deception with theatrical exercises such as faux love letters. But if he were going to take such an approach and write a letter directed at Pleakley, one that proclaimed a love he didn’t feel but was never meant for Pleakley to lay eye upon, what would he say in it?

            The answers came easily. He would say that Pleakley’s utter joy and fascination with the new things he discovered about his new home planet were infectious. He would say that Pleakley was attentive and caring. He would say that Pleakley was a trusted confidante, that Pleakley was loyal to a fault, that Pleakley was much more intelligent than he gave himself credit for (it had been his idea to don disguises in the first place, and had he not, Jumba was sure he would have walked right into disaster by panicking the people of Earth). Even his nagging wasn’t all that annoying in comparison to what Jumba had known. If pressed, Jumba might even be brought to say that Pleakley had the closest thing he’d ever seen to a pure heart; there was nary a trace of malice or ill intent growing within him.

            It surprised Jumba just how easily these thoughts came, and that was almost worrying. Why were reasons to love Pleakley so readily available in his mind? Could it be possible that deep down, there was a part of him that was growing more fond of Pleakley than just as a roommate?

            Jumba dismissed the notion. It was silly. They were close, but not that close. Playing the role of a wedded couple would bring you to analyze a person down to the bone, and that was obviously what was happening. Besides, if Jumba wasn’t Pleakley’s type, the opposite was even more forcefully true. A scientific mind with malicious tendencies, he’d described as his “type,” and he was sure that held true. His tastes had also firmly been held toward Kweltikwan women, and he couldn’t think of anything physically further from that mold than a Plorgonarian man. Thinking about developing an actual attraction to someone so tiny, excitable, and of a disposition opposite Jumba’s entirely was almost hilarious.

            But there was at least merit in considering all the beautiful things Pleakley had said in his letters.


	7. This Was All My Fault

The situation was already incredibly dire.

            It was bad enough that Pleakley had encountered experiment 222: the living disease. Jumba had been simultaneously amused and horrified to hear Lilo and Stitch bring him the news that Pleakley had become a victim of the tell-tale purple pimples, swollen eye, and violent belching that heralded 222’s infection.

            So Jumba had come up with a plan: send Lilo and Stitch, piloting a small vehicle, into Pleakley’s bloodstream to hunt 222 down and capture him. Jumba had at first been reticent to outline the catch in that plan: the size-reducing method used to implant Lilo and Stitch inside of Pleakley would only last for an hour, and if they hadn’t left by that time, Pleakley would be ripped apart from the inside. Once the duo was well on their way in their undertaking, Jumba thought to warn them, writing it off as forgetting to mention it earlier.

            When the truth was he hadn’t wanted to mention it for fear of terrifying Pleakley, which he knew it would.

            But now things had become ultimately worse. Gantu had come looking for 222, and, realizing that Pleakley was infected, had simply whisked Pleakley away. After a frantic and failed attempt to warn Lilo and Stitch of the danger Pleakley was in via a broken laptop, Jumba had dropped everything but his reducing ray and taken off after Gantu. He approached his enemy’s ship at top speed, drawing the reducer like a weapon. Hopefully he wasn’t too late. The hour was almost up, but knowing Gantu, a worse fate could have befallen Pleakley in the time it took Jumba to get to him.

            If Jumba had his way, Pleakley would be turned over to Hämsterviel over his own corpse. He was trying not to entertain the notion of losing Pleakley to this series of circumstances, trying not to picture the aftermath. Such a future was bleak and empty. If Pleakley was lost, a great part of Jumba would be torn away along with him.

            He realized he hadn’t even considered that Lilo and Stitch were in the same boat, minus the threat of exploding. That was another frightening prospect: losing that pair, whom Jumba had cared for so fondly, one of whom was practically Jumba’s progeny. He fought breathlessness to keep up his pace. He had to get there in time, his mind droned as he stormed onto the ship. He had to get there before Pleakley was sent to Hämsterviel to be torn apart molecule by molecule – or torn apart molecule by molecule, then sent to Hämsterviel. Either was possible. Neither was appetizing.

            Jumba burst into the room to see a sheepish Pleakley staring up at Gantu, whimpering, “I don’t know what came over me. I would never challenge you physically…”

            “Be quiet,” Gantu groaned. “I’m going to crush you now.”          

            Making good on his threat, Gantu lifted his foot.

            “SO YOU ARE THINKING!” Jumba growled as he halted. He drew the reducer.

            “JUMBA!” Pleakley cried. “MY HERO!”

            Jumba fired his impromptu weapon. Gantu, flabbergasted, was shrunk to the size of a doll. Jumba leaned over Gantu, threatening him, “Now is my turn for squishing.”

            He tried in vain to stomp on Gantu and smash him to a pulp for a few minutes; Gantu scurried out of reach, evading him. Jumba was well aware that Lilo and Stitch would have discouraged even their most present enemy coming to such an end, but he was well past caring; Gantu had threatened one of the – no, three of the people most important to Jumba, and for that, he deserved to be crushed beyond repair. Pleakley, for all his usual benevolence toward every living thing, was by this point all too happy to encourage Jumba in this endeavor.

            In the end, they settled for imprisoning the tiny Gantu in a glass jar. Gantu raged at them in a higher-pitched voice than usual, which amused both Jumba and Pleakley until a timer in Jumba’s pocket began beeping shrilly.

            The timer that, at the beginning of Lilo and Stitch’s venture, had been set for fifty-five minutes.

            Jumba glanced at his pocket watch in case it had better news for him; it didn’t. “Oh, no,” he moaned. “Hour is almost up!”

            Without warning, he grasped Pleakely by the head, drawing him in close enough to Jumba’s mouth that Jumba could be heard by Lilo and Stitch deep inside: “Little girl! 626! Shrinking about to wear off! Must leave immediately, or Pleakley is kablooey!”

            This, unfortunately, had the effect of giving Pleakley the exact surge of panic that Jumba had wanted to avoid. It was the first Pleakley had heard of this fate in store for him.

            “They’re going to un-shrink,” Pleakley repeated, “inside of me?” His breathing was already becoming more fast-paced. He threw his arms outward for effect; “KABLOOEY?” In desperation, he fell forward, hands landing on Jumba’s shoulders. “DO SOMETHING!”

            Jumba was trying to stuff away his own anxiety about the situation and replace it with rational thought. The quickest route to that, he thought, was to cover it up with ill-placed humor. “Could be messy,” he said as he turned away from Pleakley. “I will get big towel.”

            Pleakley watched Jumba get three paces away before Jumba stopped walking, turning to look back at Pleakley and indicate his little joke. It occurred to him that Pleakley had taken him completely seriously, and he regretted saying what he had.

            “Was that…supposed to be funny?” Pleakley snapped. “Because it WASN’T FUNNY! I AM SERIOUSLY ABOUT TO EXPLODE!” He backed up, leaning against one of Gantu’s ship’s consoles for support. “I can’t. I can’t do this. I’m not going to survive this. I don’t know what to do, I don’t have any time, I’m about to explode…WHY DIDN’T YOU WARN ME?”

            “Because did not wish to scare you,” Jumba said as he turned back to face Pleakley. “Thought to warn little girl and 626 of it once they were inside, but kept getting interrupted.”

            “You didn’t want to SCARE ME?” Pleakley repeated. “So you were just going to LET ME EXPLODE?”

            Jumba cautiously approached Pleakley, overcome by a desire to offer some sort of comfort despite his own better sensibilities becoming swallowed by fear. “I was confident they would have captured 222 within the hour,” he said in a calm tone that was dissonant with his inner turmoil. “Those two have never failed us before. It seems now I maaaaaaay have been mistaken.” Testing the waters, he placed his hands over Pleakley’s skinny shoulders, a reversal of their earlier position. “Truly did not expect for them to cut this close. May still turn it around. Believe me, I want nothing LESS than to lose you to kablooey, especially…” His hands slid back around Pleakley; he was about to hit the heart of the matter and lay bare the ugly truth. “Especially to experiment I made, because of plan I devised.”

            He pulled Pleakley into a close embrace; Pleakley, shuddering, leaned into him. “Am incredibly sorry,” Jumba said softly. “This was all my fault.”

            “No,” Pleakley replied in a quavering voice, his hands gripping and pleating the front of Jumba’s shirt. “Please don’t. It wasn’t your fault. You were trying to help me.”

            “Source of problem can still be traced back to me. I never, NEVER meant for it to be this way.”

            “Jumba, don’t blame yourself…please…I don’t want knowing you beat yourself up over this to be the last thing I hear.”

            What would be the last thing Pleakley would want to hear? Faced with this question, Jumba sought for an intellectual answer. None came to mind; his sensibilities were clouded with anxiety and the preparation for impending grief. He considered making another joke about how much of a pain it would be to clean up after the explosion, but he knew far better than to voice it. Perhaps, he thought, he should say some of the things he’d come up with in his hypothetical false love letter. “Pleakley,” he began, “you should know you are – “

            “IN MY EAR!” Pleakley shrieked, tearing himself from Jumba’s arms and flailing. “They are UN-SHRINKING IN MY EAR!” Frantically, he pointed to the affected orifice.

            Jumba settled one hand around the back of Pleakley’s head and peered inside the specified ear, noting two minuscule silhouettes turning to make their way into the canal, unable to progress forward due to their rapidly growing size. “They are heading for mouth,” he announced, “but is no TIME! They have already started growing!” Grasping Pleakley’s chin with his other hand, he began to shake Pleakley’s head; “Stimulate glottis!”

            The rapid shaking and the ensuing annoyance brought Pleakley for just a moment out of the realm of soul-sundering panic and into that of frustrated backtalk; he shoved Jumba aside, barking, “Don’t you stimulate ANYTHING in there!” A sour expression crossed his face. “Hey…I feel funny…”

            “Like you’re going to pop?” Jumba asked, unsure if he was prepared to deal with the outcome. On second thought, no, sure he was not prepared at all.

            “No,” Pleakley corrected. “Like I’m going to – “

            That sentence was interrupted with another belch; Lilo, Stitch, and the buggy where 222 was contained were propelled from his mouth to land on the floor.

            “We MADE it!” Lilo sighed in relief.

            The purple spots vanished from Pleakley’s skin; “Hey! I’m all better!”

            And so all was well that ended well. Gantu was left behind in the jar; unbeknownst to Jumba and Pleakley, Lilo and Stitch slipped back to dump 222 upon him and infect him as revenge for his crimes before the pair joined their chaperones on the walk home.

            “That sure was a close one!” Pleakley sighed.

            “Yeah,” Lilo agreed, “but Stitch and I had it under control.”

            “Maybe I should trust you with life-threatening missions more often!” Pleakley laughed.

            Jumba didn’t contribute to the conversation. For the first time, he had an idea of how Pleakley had felt when Jumba was captured by Hämsterviel. Though it still nagged at Jumba that it was his creation that had put Pleakley in a position of such peril. Had the worst come to pass, he would have ended up with something he couldn’t have forgiven himself for.

            But why, when he recounted the situation in his mind, did he constantly think of Pleakley’s welfare first and remember Lilo and Stitch a moment later? Was it simply a by-product of them being roommates?

            He gave Pleakley, Lilo, and Stitch a glance as the three conversed. Now in much better spirits, Pleakley was smiling. It was a radiant smile; Jumba’s own mouth turned upward when he saw it.

            His heart fluttered. Evidence was starting to stack up toward a possibility he did not want to consider. What if, against all odds, he was developing romantic feelings for Pleakley after all? What was he supposed to do with that information then?

            Keep it under lock and key, of course. He was in no mood to start a relationship. He highly doubted he and Pleakley would be compatible in that regard based on what he considered to be objective criteria. Besides, he knew Pleakley wouldn’t feel the same. Pleakley had been the one to insist the love letters were only lies.

            Most importantly, Jumba had no proof that he was experiencing anything more than a passing thought brought upon by the shock of almost losing Pleakley. That context made things seem more extreme than they were. Or, conversely, was it the gravity of the situation that brought out the truth?

            He realized his name was being called.

            “Jumba!” Pleakley waved a hand in front of Jumba’s quadruple eyes. “Earth to Jumba!”

            “Yes?” Jumba replied.

            “I SAID, why make the spots PURPLE?”

            Jumba shrugged. “Purple was favorite color at time.”


	8. I Do Think You Are Weird

Everything had worked out better than expected for Lilo. Even though her “Lilo’s Not Weird” party had been very nearly ruined by experiment 355, who had swapped Lilo and Stitch’s bodies as well as Jumba and Pleakley’s, her new friend Victoria had still been impressed with the festivities and resolved to kindle a relationship with Lilo, not despite her weirdness, but because of it. Lilo had been worried about being too bizarre for Victoria, but as the two girls parted company that evening, she was now of a different mind.

            “You know what, Stitch?” she said to her blue companion as the pair approached the front door of the house. “I am weird.”

            “Stitch not think so,” Stitch replied.

            “That’s because you’re weird too,” Lilo told him. “But I learned tonight that weird is good.”

            Stitch pushed open the door, and he and Lilo entered the living room to find themselves witnessing the thick of a loud and intense argument.

            “BUT YOU JUST HAVE TO TURN AROUND EVERYTHING I SAY TO BE A JAB AT ME, DON’T YOU?” Pleakley yelled. “Oh, everybody laugh at Pleakley! He can’t cook! I’m surprised you eat anything at all around here if it’s so horrible!”

            “Obviously eat enough,” Jumba retorted, just as loudly. “Apparently am SOOOOO BIG AND FAT. And with too many eyes!”

            “I complain about YOUR eyes? YOU were complaining about MY eye! AND my legs! AND my dress! And everything else you can think of!”

            “Is not my fault you are easy target!”

            “EASY TARGET? Oh, that is IT, mister!” Pleakley whipped a pillow off the sofa. “DON’T MAKE ME DO ANYTHING I’M GONNA REGRET!”

            “What are you going to do?” Jumba taunted. “Make me pay for my crimes by hitting me in face with pillow?”

            That was exactly what Pleakley did. “NOW WHO’S THE EASY TARGET?” Pleakley yelled. “BECAUSE I THINK IT’S YOUR BIG FAT FACE!”

            “So you want to play UNFAIR?” Jumba roared.

            “STOOOOOOOOP!” Lilo put up both hands. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? You two are ohana! You shouldn’t be fighting like this!”

            “Fighting bad!” Stitch agreed. “Very, very bad!”

            “Well, he started it!” Pleakley accused.

            “Have very distinct memory of you starting it,” Jumba retorted.

            “Everything was going so great,” Lilo moaned, “but now you guys hate each other!”

            “Oh, no,” Pleakley said hurriedly. “We don’t hate each other. At least, I don’t hate Jumba. Whether or not he hates me is up for debate.”

            “You accuse me of hating you?” Jumba replied, putting on the air of being offended. “Absolutely not! However, am LESS than happy with you at moment!”

            “Less than happy?” Pleakley replied. “Well, how do you think I feel?”

            “Hmmmm…” Lilo thought it over. “You know what I think? You two need to sit down and talk this out with a therapist. Luckily, Stitch and I are both masters of psychology.”

            “Masters!” Stitch agreed.

            “Lilo, honey,” Pleakley attempted to tell her, “no offense, but Jumba and I are both grown adults. I’m glad you want to help, but as you’re very young and lacking a doctorate, I don’t think you can solve this. Jumba and I are going to work this out maturely – “

            He was cut off by Jumba smashing the last of the lemon blobs Pleakley had baked that afternoon right into Pleakley’s face, smearing it around for effect and laughing maniacally.

            Face set in stone, Pleakley grumbled, “Okay. We’ll try this Lilo’s way.”

            Within a few minutes, Lilo and Stitch, dressed in proportional lab coats and bearing clipboards, stood before Jumba and Pleakley, who sat sheepishly on the couch. 355 listened in from the corner of the room, where a blanket sat over his containment canister so he wouldn’t be able to use his brain-swapping power on anyone else with his mischievous eyes.

            “All right,” Lilo began, tapping her clipboard with a pen. “Why don’t you tell me when all this started?”

            “It started when you let one-eyed noodle move into house,” Jumba offered.

            “I meant the fight today,” Lilo clarified. “We’ll go one at a time. Jumba, what did Pleakley do that made you so mad?”

            “What did I do?” Pleakley broke in. “I didn’t do anything! It’s all HIS fault!”

            “Wait your turn!” Stitch barked.

            “Well?” Lilo looked expectantly at Jumba.

            “Was probably when 355 swapped our brains,” Jumba mused. “The moment Pleakley inhabited my body, could not stop making insults about it. And has not stopped making insults rest of night.”

            “Only in self-defense!” Pleakley argued. “You’re the one who keeps coming up with new insults!”

            “All right, Pleakley,” Lilo encouraged. “When do YOU think this fight started?”

            “We can at least agree it was when that experiment swapped us,” Pleakley grumbled. “Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still sore over his comment on my chocolate green bean recipe. Anyway, when he got into my body, he started complaining about how inconvenient it was! And even after we switched back, he STILL made rude comments about my cooking and refused to apologize!”

            “I see,” Lilo muttered. “So the problem was when Swapper swapped you guys.”

            “Swapper?” Jumba repeated.

            “That’s the name I gave 355,” Lilo clarified. “Anyway, it sounds like both of you got really hurt when you complained about being in each other’s body.”

            “Hurt?” Jumba scoffed. “I was not HURT! I was INSULTED, yes, but cannot HURT me with mere comments! I have very thick skin!”

            “I know,” Pleakley groaned. “I had it for a half hour.”

            “What about you, Pleakley?” Lilo asked. “Did you feel hurt about the things Jumba was saying?”

            “Well, I…” Pleakley shifted in his seat, not sure how much to let his guard down. “I…might have been. A little. If we’re being perfectly honest.”

            “What did I tell you that you did not already know?” Jumba asked. “You have very inconvenient legs for walking and no depth perception.”

            “Well, I just never knew how much that stuff bothered you,” Pleakley admitted.

            “Nothing bothers me!” Jumba insisted. “How many times am I to be repeating this?”

            “What exactly did Pleakley say that made you feel…” Lilo chose her words carefully. “Insulted?”

            “Started with comment on my weight,” Jumba grumbled. “Am proud of being fat. Have never had problem with it. Obviously, PLEAKLEY has problem with it. And then the taping over of three eyes was icing on cake.”

            “I needed to see, okay?” Pleakley groaned. “Having ONE eye means it’s easier for me to focus on ONE thing at a time! When I have FOUR eyes, I’m getting visual overload and I can’t process anything!”

            “So you didn’t think having four eyes was necessarily ugly,” Lilo mused, beginning to come to her conclusion. “You just weren’t used to it, and it was a case of sensory overstimulation.”

            “Yes!” Pleakley said. “Exactly!”

            “Rest of body was not sensory overstimulation,” Jumba reminded him.

            “I think I’ve found my breakthrough!” Lilo announced. “Let me talk it over with my co-therapist first.” She and Stitch whispered to each other for a moment before turning back to Jumba and Pleakley.

            “Dr. Stitch and I have arrived at our conclusion,” Lilo stated. “We think when you two got freaked out by being in each other’s bodies, the stuff you said about the bodies you were in caused you each to think the other thought you were ugly.”

            “Is preposterous!” Jumba insisted. “I do not care if Pleakley thinks I am ugly!”

            “Then why are you getting so worked up about it?” Lilo asked.

            “Gotcha there,” Stitch commented.

            Pleakley’s lip quivered before he broke down; “Okay, okay! It’s true! At least for me! Now I know for a fact that whenever Jumba looks at me, he thinks I’m weird!” He buried his face in his hands.

            “Jumba?” Lilo urged. “Is there anything you want to say? Remember, we can’t get anywhere unless you’re COMPLETELY HONEST.”

            Jumba gave a sigh at that. “All right, all right. May have been the slightest bit dismayed to know Pleakley thinks I am weird one.”

            “You’re both weird!” Lilo reminded them. “But weird is good! Victoria and I are friends BECAUSE we’re both so weird! You two can be the same way! I think I have a solution to this problem.”

            “What is it?” Pleakley asked, peering at Lilo from between two fingers.

            “Each of you has to name three good things about being in the other’s body!” Lilo said with a confident nod. “That way, you’ll be able to focus on the positive things about each other!”

            “Was NOTHING good about being in noodly one-eyed body,” Jumba insisted.

            “I’d be hard-pressed to think of anything on my end,” Pleakley added.

            “Well…” Lilo smirked. “If you can’t think of anything, maybe you haven’t been each other long enough. We can just have Swapper switch you again, and then you can figure out what those three good things are! Stitch? Would you do the honors?”

            “Okay!” Stitch crawled toward Swapper’s container.

            Jumba and Pleakley stood at the same time, yelling, “NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!”

            “Ooookaaaaay!” Stitch told them, flashing them a wicked grin. “But play nice!”

            “Little girl,” Jumba said coldly, “I have obviously been too good of influence on you, as that move was utterly evil.” He and Pleakley both sat back down on the couch.

            Lilo’s smirk turned into a more sincere smile. “So how about those three good things?” she asked.

            “Well,” Pleakley mused, “I guess being taller would come in more handy for being able to reach the higher shelves. And having more eyes does mean you can see more. I know I wasn’t able to handle seeing that much of the world, but I can also see how that would be a good thing. And for some reason, when I was bigger, I feel like all of Lilo’s friends looked at me with more respect than they usually do.”

            “Height is useful in that regard,” Jumba agreed. “Now, for you? Well, I suppose once I got the hang of third foot, leg configuration allowed me to be much faster. You are built for speed. Must come in very handy when running from enemies. Also, must admit I found advantage to small, wiry body right away once in it. Two weeks ago, was working on new gadget: parking spot detector for busy parking lots. Had made it spherical in design. Unfortunately, dropped prototype, and it rolled under Pleakley’s bed, where it was lost for two whole weeks. Once I had skinnier, more flexible body, realized I could retrieve parking spot detector, and went to do exactly that. It is now sitting on desk where it belongs.”

            “Wait,” Pleakley interrupted. “If you lost something under my bed, why not just ask me to go get it for you?”

            “Because you would do same thing you did this afternoon and make unsavory comment about weight,” Jumba said dryly.

            “Do…I do that that often?” Pleakley asked, rather taken aback.

            “Just often enough.” Jumba changed gears, thinking to his third positive. “As for final benefit of being in Pleakley’s body…when came back to room, heard other little girls giving Pleakley all sorts of compliments thanks to what they heard about him. Of course, only happened because Pleakley did not act like me like he was supposed to and instead answered to own name. Yet my name went unheard. Had I been the one to claim to be Aunt Pleakley, would have gotten all that praise for self! No, has nothing to do with physical body, but still is food for thought, no?”

            “People would like you!” Pleakley insisted. “I mean, I like you!” Oh, no, that was getting dangerously too close to certain subjects he didn’t want to broach. “You know, as family. Listen, I, uh…I’m sorry if I make too many comments about your weight. I really don’t think you’re ugly. I don’t! Things kind of just…slip out whenever we have little arguments. But if we’re being honest, I think you look pretty good. Now, me, on the other hand…I know you’ve thought I was weird-looking since all the way back when we first met, and I thought maybe you’d gotten over that, but maybe that hasn’t changed at all, and whenever you look at me, you still think I’m gross and weird.” His gaze lowered to the floor.

            “I do think you are weird!” Jumba confirmed. “But is good weird, as little girl said! Not really ugly!”

            “You both like to make fun of each other,” Lilo reminded them. “And that can be in good fun, but you just have to be ready for when one or both of you take it too seriously. I’m guessing more insults are going to slip out later. But it’s important to remember that you both love each other.”

            That resulted in a stunned silence as both Jumba and Pleakley were briefly forced to confront the thoughts they’d been trying to avoid when it came to each other. Did she mean what they thought she meant?  
            “You know,” she went on, “like a family should!”

            There it was. They both relaxed.

            “So did we cover everything?” Lilo asked. “No more fighting tonight?”

            “Well, Jumba STILL hasn’t apologized for saying my cooking is so disgusting,” Pleakley huffed. “Like he could do any better.”

            “I hate to tell you,” Lilo informed them, “but you’re both terrible with food. And so is my sister. I did actually like the chocolate and green beans, though. It was that good kind of weird.”

            “Well, then, that is that,” Jumba resolved.

            Pleakley turned to face him. “Friends?”

            “Indeed,” Jumba replied in a pleasant tone. He placed a gentle hand on Pleakley’s back; Pleakley returned the gesture.

            “Our work here is done!” Stitch announced.

            “Now we have to focus on finding the one true place Swapper belongs,” Lilo realized. “Got any ideas?”

            The rest of the night was devoted to the arduous task of figuring out where, exactly, a brain-swapping experiment could call their home.


	9. I'm Going to Miss You a Lot

You would think that in any given plane of existence, there would only be one horrifying alternate timeline in which the galaxy was conquered by a ruthless evil. Unfortunately, Lilo Pelekai’s Earth received that treatment twice at least.

            This time, it took Jumba all of two days to figure out what had happened. Lilo and Stitch had mysteriously disappeared shortly after he’d informed them that the experiment they had captured, 089, had the ability to transport one forward in time by ten years. He had been in charge of informing Nani, Pleakley, and David that yes, Lilo and Stitch were fine, and the rest of the family would see them in around ten years. Some had taken it better than others.

            What he didn’t expect was for Lilo to use the skip again immediately after landing ten years in the future, prolonging her absence to twenty years. From there, it was a horrific cavalcade of gambits by Hämsterviel and unpaid parking ticket debt. The Pelekai house was repossessed around the same time that Hämsterviel took over as supreme lord of the galaxy (Jumba found himself victim to a strange déja vu; had this happened once before?). In order to make ends meet, Nani had agreed to work for Hämsterviel, though strictly as a servant: not to be complicit in any of his deeds. There was a time, Jumba knew, that Nani would have held her ground against him no matter what, but losing her sister for more than a decade took its toll.

            That left Jumba and Pleakley hiding out in the Pelekai house, hoping desperately that the most obvious place would be the last one Hämsterviel looked.

            Jumba had resigned himself to his fate as a refugee as soon as it became clear that his life had been reduced to that. He had been in similar situations in the past. He came to terms with being walled in the house, the threat of a persistent nemesis’ watching eye dangling over his head like the fabled sword of Damocles. It wasn’t ideal, but it could become normal.

            But watching Pleakley try to adapt to this new circumstance was like watching a flower slowly wilt. No longer able to even explore the Earth outside the house, Pleakley took to secluding himself, building walls of books about fashion trends around his bunk and the sofa before lying on either, forcing himself to read until the bleakness of the situation sank right back in and he set the book aside to simply stare upward.

            It was obvious that Pleakley was trying to avoid having any active breakdowns in order to appear stronger during the trying time. But still, Jumba wished Pleakley would speak more. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so quiet, and Jumba missed his voice.

            When interactions did come, they were fleeting but poignant. Such as the time the pair had been eating their usual meager meal of scraps in the attic, and Pleakley had said, out of the blue, “I’m glad you’re still here.” He hadn’t looked glad in any sense of the word, but Jumba had understood his meaning.

            “Am not going anywhere,” Jumba promised him. “It is just two of us now. Best we stick together, no?”

            Pleakley’s hands shook uncontrollably upon hearing this, and he managed to sputter out a “Y…yeah” before retreating back into silence.

            They had one staple of their daily routine: slouching together on the couch in front of the television, watching the few intergalactic programs still available for broadcast despite Hämsterviel’s censorship. Every show was peppered with “commercial breaks” that reiterated that Hämsterviel was still on the hunt for Lilo Pelekai, Jumba Jookiba, and Experiment 626; anyone who could provide Hämsterviel with any information was offered a handsome reward.

            “Nani hasn’t talked,” Pleakley said one night.

            “She wouldn’t,” Jumba reminded him.

            “I can’t imagine what they’re doing to her,” Pleakley muttered. “They have to have tried to get that information out of her by force.”

            “She is very strong,” Jumba resolved.

            They’d begun this nightly tradition sitting on opposite ends of the couch. Over time, Pleakley’s position on the couch had gravitated closer and closer to Jumba, and their standard arrangement culminated in Pleakley completely leaning on Jumba, barely bothering to keep himself upright. Jumba had welcomed this, always wrapping an arm around Pleakley to keep him in position and offer what comfort he could.

            “How has your study of clothing been going?” Jumba had asked on more than one night, hoping to light a spark of interest in Pleakley, get him to open up about something he’d felt passionate about.

            The only response he got was “Eh.” Every time.

            But one night, it clicked completely. Another one of Hämsterviel’s propaganda “commercials” played, with the shrill voice of Hämsterviel himself declaring, “I am still seeking information on the location of my three most persistent enemies! Lilo Pelekai, the annoying little Earth girl! Experiment 626, with his ridiculous blue fur and partial grasp of any given language! And Dr. Jumba Jookiba, who will come to rue the day he ever crossed JACQUES VON HÄMSTERVIEL! All three of these miscreants are EXTREMELY DANGEROUS and wanted for MANY CRIMES AGAINST THE HÄMSTERVIEL ORDER! Provide me with this information or the indicated parties themselves and you shall be made NOBILITY in my galactic order! And with that, we now return you to your regular mind-numbing television program!”

            It was a speech Jumba had heard a thousand times before, but only now did its meaning fully kick in. He stared at the screen in shock, replaying what he’d just heard in his head and comparing it to all the similar declarations of propaganda he’d heard from Hämsterviel.

            “They never say your name,” he realized out loud, almost a whisper. “Not now. Not EVER.”

            “Huh?” Pleakley replied.

            “Your name!” Jumba turned to hold Pleakley out at arm’s length, nearly shaking him. “All the time, mention me, mention little girl, mention 626! But NEVER MENTION WENDY PLEAKLEY!” He cackled. “You UNDERSTAND what this means! They are not LOOKING for you! Is NO NEED for you to hide!”

            “How can they not be looking for me?” Pleakley asked. “Gantu would have told Hämsterviel all about me.”

            “Yes, but since when does Hämsterviel actually really LISTEN to anyone but self?” Jumba reminded him. “Hämsterviel is targeting people he remembers having personally crossed multiple times. You do not fit that category! YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!” His smile stretched out over his face.

            “I…I don’t,” Pleakley confessed.

            “Means you can leave!” Jumba told him. “We still have ship! Take it away from Earth! What is left of Council will surely pardon your exile under circumstances! Perhaps you can make career out of useless attention to detail regarding clothing!”

            “Leave?” Pleakley repeated. “But what about you? You said it was best if we stuck together!”

            Jumba shook his head. “No. Was incorrect assumption. Traveling with me would put target on your back. If you go now, can escape fate.”

            “But you’ll still be here,” Pleakley reminded him, “and you won’t be able to escape.”

            “Does not matter,” Jumba said casually. “I will live. Why should we both be miserable if one does not have to?”

            “But…” Pleakley gripped each of Jumba’s arms with a hand. “I don’t wanna leave!”

            “Cannot be how you truly feel,” Jumba told him sternly. “Have watched you become shadow of former self ever since ohana split apart and Hämsterviel surveillance confine you to house. Now you are too quiet. Was at first relieved of your constant complaints, but is too much! If you leave, can become Pleakley I know and think fondly of again! You MUST leave.”

            There was a gulf of roaring silence; they stared into each other’s eyes across a massive distance compressed to arm’s length. Pleakley finally had to admit to himself that Jumba was right. It would mean tearing himself away from the last person he had left in his family. It would mean leaving behind the one he still couldn’t bring himself to admit he loved. But he knew he was slowly dying in his current condition. He had to break away, even if it meant cutting the last tie he had.

            “I…” he stammered. “I’m gonna miss you a lot!” His lower eyelid overflowed with water.

            “As will I,” Jumba replied. “As will I.”

 

* * *

 

            They’d chosen to do the right thing, Jumba thought as he watched the red spaceship take off from his vantage point behind the half-boarded window. They’d done the only thing they could do.

 

* * *

 

            As it turned out, Pleakley’s “useless attention to detail regarding clothing” was enough to land him a job in what remained of the fashion industry as a critic and advisor. Promotion after promotion washed over him in succession, and the next thing he knew, he was hosting one of the few pure entertainment venues to still be allowed on the Hämsterviel Channel. Working with trends and smiling for the ever-ready camera, he was happier than he’d been in a long time.

            It would have been perfect, he thought, if Jumba were there. But there was no way to make that happen.

            For a year, his show pulled in high ratings and calls from all around the galaxy. Whether to be criticized or lauded, people just wanted to talk about something that wasn’t related to the Hämsterviel-guided doom clouding existence. And Pleakley was more than happy to give that to them.

            Then, one day, the call came.

            “Hi, Pleakley?” a voice, only distantly similar to what it had sounded like twenty years ago, sounded over the connection. “It’s your old pal, Lilo, and have I got a makeover for you!”

            She nearly stopped both of his hearts dead.

            “Old…pal Lilo?” Pleakley repeated, aware that the audio-visual equipment was still running and monitored. “Oh, no, I don’t have an old pal named Lilo. You must be thinking of the OTHER incredibly successful Pleakley in the fashion world. Though if I DID have an old pal named Lilo, I would tell her to wait until taping was over and I could call her back on another line, but since I don’t, I won’t!”

            Somehow, Hämsterviel’s censors never caught it.

            After the episode, Pleakley quickly redialed the number that had called him, hoping against hope. The voice again, on the other end, so grown-up compared to what he had known: “Pleakley? Is that you?”  
            “Lilo!” Pleakley replied. “You finally came home!”

            “It’s only been a few minutes since the last skip for me,” she confessed. “But I know it was way, WAY longer than that for you. I’m sorry.”

            “Well, the past is the past.” Sure, Pleakley could have been angry, but it was Lilo. She was here, she was sorry, and she likely already had a plan to fix her mistake. He couldn’t hold it against her. “I’m just glad you’re okay! Hämsterviel is looking for you everywhere! You and Stitch!”

            “Not anymore,” Lilo replied. “He’s already got Stitch.”

            “Oh no!”

            “We have to get him back,” Lilo continued. “So I’m getting the band back together. I’m starting to get a plan, and we’re going to need your help.”

            “We?” Pleakley repeated. “Who’s ‘we’?” He gasped. “Are you with Jumba?”

            “Who else would I be with?” Lilo replied cheekily.

            “Can…can I talk to him?” Pleakley asked nervously.

            “Of course,” Lilo said. “Hang on.” Pleakley then heard a muffled “He wants to talk to you” as the phone traded hands.

            Then the voice he hadn’t heard in too long: “Pleakley?”

            “JUMBA!” That had come out much louder than Pleakley had wanted. “How are you? Did they find you? Are you okay? How did you find Lilo? Did you get any more parking tickets? Are you – “

            “Be slowing down! Cannot answer incessant questions if you do not give me space to breathe!”

            “Sorry!” Pleakley yelped.

            “Am all right,” Jumba explained. “Probably only have few minutes before communication is picked up on Hämsterviel’s trackers. Will explain more when we meet. But little girl…well, she is not so little anymore after skipping twenty years ahead in time. Do not know yet what plan is, but is hers, so is probably good, no?”

            “Where should I meet you?” Pleakley asked.

            “Back at house,” Jumba resolved. “We will leave shortly after rendez-vous. Plan is all or nothing. I know THAT much at least. Is all the time I can spare!”

            “I’ll see you both soon,” Pleakley promised.

            “One more thing,” Jumba told him. “Your show very entertaining. Have seen almost every episode. STILL do not understand SINGLE THING you are talking about.” After that, he hung up.

            Pleakley’s personal assistant approached him with clipboard in hand. “We need to get moving,” she said. “You have a very full itinerary – “

            “Not anymore,” Pleakley told her in as serious of a tone as he could muster. “Clear my schedule.”

            “These engagements can’t be broken – “

            “Well, that’s just TOO BAD.” Pleakley began to walk away. “I have some old friends to catch up with.”

 

* * *

 

            “…And that is how we ended up where we are,” Jumba finished relating.

            “Wow,” Lilo replied. “I didn’t know things would get that bad for Pleakley. Have I mentioned that I’m really, REALLY sorry?”  
            “You may have mentioned once or twice,” Jumba told her.

            “You did the right thing by letting him know he was safe to leave,” Lilo went on.

            “Was only thing I could do,” Jumba replied. “Do I wish he was still here? Sometimes. But know it would kill him. So always think better of it.”

            “You miss him.”

            “Preposterous as you would think…yes.” Jumba took on a morose look, his gaze directed toward the sofa.

            A knock sounded at the door.

            “You think it’s Pleakley?” Lilo asked in a whisper.

            “Could be enemies,” Jumba whispered back. “Would proceed with caution. Whatever you do, do not loudly broadcast fact that we are here – “

            “LILO!” Pleakley’s voice screamed from outside the door. “JUMBA! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!”

            Jumba sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead. “At least we know is him.”

            Lilo opened the door to see Pleakley, bedecked in his new flamboyant threads and a short-cropped blond wig, smiling at her excitedly. “Come in, come in!” she beckoned; he followed her inside the house. She reeled slightly at the realization that she was finally taller than him.

            “Lilo!” Pleakley immediately drew her into a tight hug. “I can’t believe it’s really you! You’re not gonna skip another ten years on us, are you?”

            “No,” Lilo laughed as she returned the hug. “I’m here to stay this time. I really messed up, and I’m gonna fix it.” She and Pleakley let go of each other. “Though I’m going to need help from both of you.”

            “Both…?” Pleakley repeated. He slowly turned his head to put Jumba in his view.

            For a moment, the two stared at each other, volumes of words unspoken translating from their gazes. Then Pleakley broke into a run, nearly tackling his target as he screamed, “JUMBA!” The embrace he delivered was even tighter than what he’d given Lilo. “I missed you sooooo muuuuuch!”

            “House was far too quiet without your shrill voice in it,” Jumba teased. He enveloped Pleakley in his own arms. “But in serious matter, missed you good deal as well. Congratulations on new job, by the by! How is?”

            “It’s wonderful!” Pleakley answered. “It’s almost everything I ever dreamed! It’s just…you’re not there. And I know you’re still down here, hiding.” They both knew at the same time to break the embrace then. “How…have you been doing?”

            “As told you on phone, am all right,” Jumba told him. “Living situation is not preferable, but could be much worse.”

            “I wish you could have come with me,” Pleakley said earnestly.

            “Have viewed your success as one bright spot in whole mess,” Jumba told him. “Watching show is no substitute for your company, but is much better than watching you be miserable here in person.”

            There was another silence before Pleakley said, rather soberly, “Thank you for letting me go. I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything for you.”

            “Is no need to apologize, Pleakley.”

            “You’re just the biggest missing piece in – “ Pleakley shook his head. “Oh, never mind. We’re just going to go round and round in circles, aren’t we?”

            “Okay, you guys are acting weird,” Lilo broke in.

            They’d temporarily forgotten she was in the room. “Perhaps now is good time for telling us of your plan,” Jumba suggested.

            “Right,” Lilo said with a nod. “So Jumba told me that Gantu’s the boss around here. My idea was…”

 

* * *

 

            In typical Lilo fashion, the plan was risky, and it very nearly ended in disaster, but both Stitch and 089 (affectionately nicknamed “Skip”) were recovered, and Skip’s reset function brought Lilo back to before she had ever gone on her long trip. A little girl once more, accompanied by Stitch, Lilo resolved that was her last time playing with time travel, and she meant it.

            She and Stitch were the only two who recalled anything of the incident: valuable and heavy knowledge.

            “I swear, they were acting weird!” Lilo insisted to Stitch as they walked through the hallway. “They were all serious. And when they got back together, they acted like seeing each other was all they’d wanted to do for years. Maybe it was.”

            “Could be,” Stitch mused.

            They stopped before the ajar door to Jumba and Pleakley’s room. “Hang on,” Lilo said as she knocked on the door.

            A synchronized “come in” let her know she could enter.

            Lilo peered into the room, where Jumba was tinkering with some new device at one end of the room while at the other, Pleakley was sprawled out on the bed, reading another book on the subject of haute couture. “Just a hypothetical here,” Lilo said, “but if Hämsterviel ever took over the galaxy, would you guys split up so one of you could be protected from Hämsterviel’s forces and the other could be happy? And on a scale of one to ten, how depressing would that be?”

            “Zero depressing at all,” Jumba said absent-mindedly.

            “I guess maybe?” Pleakley contributed without looking up from his book.

            “Just promise me you won’t do that unless you ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO,” Lilo continued. “Trust me. It would make both of you really sad.”

            “Sure,” Jumba grunted.

            “Whatever you want,” Pleakley added.

            “Good!” Stitch asserted.

            As Lilo and Stitch continued to their own room, Pleakley actually realized what Lilo had said. “Wait. Did she say – “

            Jumba realized it too. “That was incredibly specific hypothetical. You do not suppose…”

            “It’s Lilo. She comes up with weirdly specific hypotheticals all the time. I wouldn’t be too worried.”

            “Just to be clear, if we were to separate for any reason, would take me days to notice you were gone.”

            “You’re telling me. I might actually get a successful career in fashion without you holding me back.”

            They continued their separate pursuits, all the while unaware that they were comforted by each other’s mere presence in the same room.


	10. What You Have Just Done Was Unnecessary

The whole thing was very easily explained, once Pleakley actually gave it some thought. He still hadn’t been sure of what the concept of “love” really was! Lilo had called it an unstoppable force that overcame evil. Whatever Pleakley was feeling toward Jumba, he doubted it was that. It was all just a big overreaction. This, paired with a natural curiosity to figure out what love really meant, drove him to team up with Jumba to extract the very distilled essence of love and control its power. Once he understood it, he thought, he wouldn’t be mistaking any other feeling for it. Especially not a close friendship in which both involved parties just had very reduced physical and conversational boundaries.

            Though Pleakley was sure Jumba was only in on the study of love to figure out if it could somehow be weaponized, but if that was what got them to work together on it, Pleakley wasn’t going to argue.

            As Lilo and Stitch mounted a complex rescue operation to bring back all of the experiments Gantu had taken captive, Jumba and Pleakley worked tirelessly at their mission. In the end, they had boiled “love” down to what they believed to be its core ingredients – Valentine’s candy, long walks on beaches, and puppies – and synthesized it for themselves. All in the name of better understanding (and weaponry). But their attempt completely failed, and Lilo stepped in to inform them that love was something more complicated, something that came from within the heart.

            That definition was hardly helpful at all.

            That evening, as Stitch had some well-deserved catching-up time with experiment 624 (affectionately known as “Angel”), who Pleakley honestly still didn’t trust, Lilo began the task of assigning seventeen experiments to their true places of belonging – a bigger challenge than usual, as many of these experiments had previously only found their niches bothering Gantu. Lilo had politely asked Jumba to take over her making rounds of the town and checking up on the already-assigned rehabilitated experiments, and though Jumba had made a show of protesting, he must have wanted to go take care of this task all along, as he marched merrily off.

            Pleakley was left alone in his and Jumba’s room, thinking about all the conclusions he and Jumba had almost come to about love and filtering them through what Lilo had said. Several things were bothering him. If love couldn’t be so easily defined, it couldn’t be ruled out.

            He discreetly opened up Jumba’s laptop; the pair had been sharing it for the duration of the experiment, so Pleakley doubted Jumba would have any issue with Pleakley using it to review the data. He scanned their collective report, hoping to finally put to rest the feelings that had bothered him.

            “Love seems to be an utterly irrational form of bonding,” the report began, and Pleakley couldn’t argue with that. “However, it also seems to make up the bulk of positive societal interactions. Today, we will attempt to investigate many facets of love, including but not limited to: puppy love, familial love, romantic love…”

            Idly, Pleakley scrolled down to the segment written on romantic love.

            “Romantic love is a bond shared between at least two people,” the report read. “It is most similar to the emotional turmoil incited by experiment 323. It is characterized, first and foremost, by obsession with another person. Prominently featured in this obsession is a drive to present this person with acts of kindness.”

            Yes, Pleakley thought, but wasn’t that also a staple of friendship?

            “Budding romantic love is often accompanied by a host of annoying physical symptoms,” the report continued. “These include but are not limited to: increased heart rate…”

            Pleakley’s heart was already beating faster as he read this. But that had to be nerves, didn’t it?

            “Sweating/feeling flushed…”

            He’d gone through a phase of this whenever he had to approach Jumba for any reason. But that didn’t mean anything. After all, it had passed.

            “(Though, in more advanced cases of romantic love, studies indicate this sensation is replaced instead with physical familiarity and a tendency to touch more comfortably)…”

            Oh.

            “Inexplicable happiness and/or comfort around the other person…”

            But that had to be a facet of friendship as well! It had to!

            “And several unsavory reactions of the endocrine system, to be documented in appendix D for those who wish to be mentally scarred.”

            A slight blush rose to Pleakley’s face as he thought about what had been recorded in appendix D. Particularly things he’d written off as flukes.

            “Traditional rituals to demonstrate romantic love include presentation of heart-shaped gifts, presentation of sugar and/or dessert…”

            Why, oh, why had candy come up so many times in Jumba and Pleakley’s interactions? Pleakley had found the chocolate macaroons and decided to say nothing. (He hadn’t thought to look behind them for anything more incriminating.)

            “Dinners held between the involved parties and no one else, long walks taken on the beach or in other scenic areas, conversations about various subjects to be had on those walks, stargazing, watching films, and other assorted ‘dates’ based on the interests of one or more involved parties.”

            Well, Pleakley thought, he and Jumba certainly didn’t do a lot of that. Usually, when they were eating dinner or watching movies together, it was with the rest of the family present. But wait. Did trick-or-treating count as a date? That had never been confirmed or denied in the research.

            “Physical affection is also displayed often in various forms: most notably hand-holding, kissing, and the actions outlined in the equally mentally scarring appendix E.”

            Pleakley briefly wondered if Jumba was a good kisser. He only had one tongue, after all, which should seem to work to his disadvantage. He forced all thoughts of appendix E out of his mind for the sake of his own peace of mind.

            “The thought of separation from one with whom one has developed a bond of romantic love is commonly characterized by any and all physical symptoms of depression and/or anxiety (see appendix F).”

            Like breaking down when you think a hamster-like mad scientist is about to murder the one you care about, Pleakley thought.

            “After taking into consideration statements from casual observer Lilo Pelekai, who did not officially partake in this study, it can be determined that this love, like any other branch of love, culminates ultimately in the desire of one party to make the other happy, even at cost to oneself.”

            That was certainly true, Pleakley thought. After the initial hurdles of getting to know each other, Pleakley had discovered that wanting Jumba to be happy was one of his priorities. What would he sacrifice in order to achieve that? He wasn’t sure he’d been pushed far enough to know. But this statement wasn’t consistent with all the arguments they went through, so that immediately ruled out – “

            “Upon further study, some sources mention ‘fighting like a married couple’ as a sign of the strongest form of romantic love, though this seems incongruent with earlier data. Conflict resolution and communication seem to stand out as factors.”

            Oh. Oh, no.

            Based on their study, Pleakley realized, the possibility that he was deep in the throes of romantic love over Jumba Jookiba was not only possible, but probable. This could only cause problems. How was he to get rid of it? They hadn’t come across anything in their studies that indicated a reliable method. In fact, the studies seemed concerned most of all with growing romantic love and making it stronger. It was as if no one actually wanted to fall out of love.

            Pleakley would just have to figure this one out all by himself.

            For the hundredth time, or maybe the thousandth, he reconsidered the ban he’d placed on himself regarding discussing these feelings with Jumba. If anyone knew how to make someone fall out of love, it would be an evil genius. But the thought made Pleakley’s mouth go dry. If Jumba knew, it would change things between them forever. Jumba would forever see Pleakley as the person hopelessly in love with him, which would make him seem weak and mentally unstable. And maybe Pleakley already was both of those things. Maybe Jumba would stop seeing him as a friend altogether; interacting with Pleakley would be too awkward. Or maybe it would just become an object of ridicule. There were a thousand things that could go wrong. No, no, no, Pleakley couldn’t breathe a word of this.

            He closed the laptop, setting it aside and pulling up the covers on his bed. Maybe if he slept on it, things would look clearer in the morning.

 

* * *

 

            The last stop Jumba had to make on his rounds was the abandoned house on the hill where Spooky resided. He steeled himself with a deep breath, ready to face off once more with the visage of his ex-wife. No matter what “she” had to say to him, he was ready to deal with it.

            “All right, experiment 300,” he muttered as he creaked open the rickety door. “Do your worst.”

            He expected Spooky to charge at him the moment he entered the house, but the mischievous experiment was nowhere to be found. Jumba scoured the structure from cellar to tower, finding Spooky nowhere.

            “300?” he called out. “Please not to be telling me Gantu has taken you when we are not looking. That would cause MAJOR inconvenience.”

            Spooky was probably hiding, he thought, waiting to spring Jumba’s fear upon him when Jumba least expected it. He sighed as he pushed open another door leading to an empty room. “Jump scares cheating,” he reminded the experiment, who may or may not have been listening. “Relies on startling, not true fear. Would have thought you would know that.”

            From downstairs, suddenly, two sounds. A great crash. And a familiar scream that set Jumba’s heart racing.

            He bolted into the room from which the cacophony had come, hoping he hadn’t heard what he thought he’d heard. It seemed a segment of the ceiling had collapsed, which, given the age of the house, wasn’t surprising. Heavy debris lay scattered over a slight, crushed figure in the center of the room. When he recognized who it was, Jumba’s heart nearly stopped.

            “Pleakley?” Jumba gingerly approached the pile of debris. Pleakley was all but buried, his head with its eye closed and one outstretched arm lying free of the collapse. The fallen planks looked very solid and weighty, and Jumba did not have an easy time removing them from atop Pleakley’s prone form. Calculating the weight of the debris at the rate it would have fallen, and factoring in the strength of Pleakley’s body should it be impacted, Jumba was not arriving at the conclusions he wanted.

            He finally extricated Pleakley’s body, kneeling beside it, gently lifting Pleakley’s torso into his arms. “What were you even doing out here?” he asked worriedly. “Did you want something of me? Could it not have waited until I arrived back at house?”

            He got no answer.

            “No, no, no…” He felt gently for a pulse and received nothing. No heartbeat. No signs of breathing. “It cannot be…”

            Something inside of him seemed to crumble and fall away like an ill-stacked pile of books, splaying out across the floor. What was he to do now? He still hardly wanted to admit it. Pleakley couldn’t be gone. There had to be some factor he was missing, some proof he was still alive –

            And then, in a moment of sheer frustration, he realized there was, and he really should have realized it earlier.

            “I am onto your little game, 300,” Jumba growled. “Now be dropping disguise and show me REAL face.”

            The body in his arms wriggled, then lost its form and color, gelling into a blob. Jumba practically tossed Spooky away from him, standing up to give the experiment a good scolding. Spooky just grinned.

            “What makes you think you can do thing like that to me?” Jumba barked. “I created you! Should respect me! You are good now and should know better!”

            Spooky just laughed.

            “Yes, I know, I know!” Jumba went on. “Your job is to give people scare with worst fear! But what you have just done was UNNECESSARY!”

            Spooky’s grin faded; he tilted his head in misunderstanding. How was this different than any other fear he had doled out for fun?

            Jumba picked up on the experiment’s confusion. Maybe the thing that was unnecessary was his scolding. “Is strange,” he realized. “It seems worst fear has changed. I suppose it only makes sense; distance from ex-wife would lessen apprehension in her presence. But why now worst fear is losing Pleakley? Does not seem at all logical.”

            Spooky shrugged.

            “Well, came here to verify you are still in working order and doing good,” Jumba concluded. “Cannot speak so much for second factor, but you are definitely physically well. Our business here finished.”

            The image of the broken and battered Pleakley haunted him as he left the grounds of the abandoned house. Why, oh why, was that the fear Spooky had chosen to show? Did it signify something greater?

            By the time he got back to his room, Jumba made a decision about what he wanted to do next. He gathered his laptop under his arm and made to scale the ladder up to his bed.

            But first, he peered into the lower bunk, where Pleakley was fast asleep, muttering nonsense. If Pleakley thought he was the quieter sleeper of the two, Jumba thought, then he was living under a delusion. But he was definitely still alive, and Jumba realized he had needed to see that tonight.

            He crawled into his own bed, opening up the laptop and taking a good look at the studies he and Pleakley had compiled regarding love. Discreetly, he moved right to the paragraph that began the section on romantic love.


	11. How Good Are You at Keeping Secrets?

Nani only had thirty minutes to eat lunch on her shift at the Birds of Paradise Hotel. The night before, she had felt utterly too tired to make food for herself for the next day, and so had decided she could get away with buying some food from the hotel itself and wolfing it down in the break room. However, upon her approach to the buffet, she discovered with dismay that there was no cash upon her person with which to pay. Stomach growling, she slunk toward the break room to read the newspaper that usually graced the table, hoping that would take her mind off food.

            No sooner had she fanned out the front page than she heard a familiar voice as the break room door opened; “Oh, Nani!”

            Nani slammed down the paper to see Pleakley entering the room, all decked out in a flouncy ensemble and perky blonde wig; she had to smile to see that his color coordination had improved drastically since they’d first met. But of more interest to her was the paper bag he carried. Hoping against hope it contained food for her, she asked, “What are you doing back here? This is for employees only.”

            “Well, Mr. Jameson remembered me as your aunt from that disastrous brunch we all had,” Pleakley explained, taking a seat across from her, “and he said it would only be fitting with the aloha spirit to let you visit with your family on break every now and again! And I’m glad he did, because I brought you a surprise!” He slid the bag across the table. “I noticed you didn’t make a lunch last night, and I thought, what better surprise could there be than a home-cooked lunch hand-delivered to you?”

            “Pleakley, you are a LIFESAVER!” Nani ripped open the bag to find a sandwich waiting for her. Tuna and pineapple, she realized upon closer inspection, but that wasn’t enough to stop her from tearing into it. “I can’t thank you enough for this!” she muttered around a mouthful.

            “Sooooo, how’s the job going?” Pleakley asked cheerfully. “Lilo tells me the new experiment is making the couples cliff-diving attraction a major success!”

            “You have no idea,” Nani replied. “You don’t mind if I talk and eat, do you?”

            “Normally, I think it’s a completely disgusting habit,” Pleakley informed her, “but given your time constraints, I’ll let it slide.”

            “Everyone LOVES the cliff-diving,” Nani went on. “Nobody really even asks how it works. A lot of times, they just mistake Link for some kind of pet and give him treats. I’m not really sure what alien experiments are supposed to eat, but I think he’s omnivorous.”

            “Well, I’m glad that little monster found a place,” Pleakley confessed. “Maybe he wasn’t the MOST annoying experiment we’ve had to tame, but he’s in my top ten!”

            “I’m actually surprised to hear you say that,” Nani told him.

            “Why’s that?”  
            “Well, all he did was attach you to Jumba,” Nani explained, “and you two are practically joined at the hip anyway.” She stopped to ponder. “Do you even have hips…? Well, you know what I mean. You’re always together.”

            “You think I WANTED to be attached to him?” Pleakley spat. “I can’t think of a worse person to be stuck to for a day! He never cleans up after himself, his sense of humor is terrible, and he still has evil tendencies!”

            “Again, I’m surprised,” Nani confessed. “I thought you really liked him.” She grinned as she chewed. “To tell you the truth…you’re going to think this is really funny. But I was starting to think the two of you were going to date.”

            “DATE?” Pleakley sputtered. “Who said anything about a date? Why would we DATE? We wouldn’t DATE! No thank you, ma’am! No! Never! Not a chance! End of story!”

            “You don’t think you’d be a cute couple?” Nani teased.

            Pleakley simply glared at her in response.

            “Okay, I’ll stop teasing you,” Nani resolved.

            “We wouldn’t be a cute couple anyway,” Pleakley huffed. “I’m neat, and he’s not. I model my life around a strict set of rules and regulations, and he models his life on breaking every single one of them. He’s mean, he wastes all his time on completely useless inventions, and he wouldn’t like me back anyw – “

            Nani’s jaw dropped, revealing a chewed-up mess of sandwich.

            Pleakley realized what he’d just said. “I…uh…I…” There was no way to save that one, was there?

            Nani quickly closed her mouth and swallowed. “You DO like him, don’t you?”

            “You weren’t supposed to know!” Pleakley squeaked.

            “Hey, it’s okay,” Nani told him. “I’m guessing you don’t want anyone else to know.”

            “You got that right, sister!”

            “Then I won’t tell anyone,” Nani promised. “It’ll be our little secret. Deal?”

            “Deal.”

            “Though I’m not sure why you’d want it to be such a big secret in the first place,” Nani confessed. “Is it just because you don’t think he likes you in the same way?”

            “Well…” Pleakley knotted his fingers together. “First of all, I, uh…I didn’t want anyone but him to know that I was…well…a big fan of musical chairs.”

            “What?”

            “Attracted to men.”

            “Ohhh.” Nani nodded in understanding. “Please don’t ever worry about that when it comes to me, Pleakley. To tell you the truth, I kind of guessed once I first got to really know you. But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. You love who you love. You should own that.”

            “Thank you, Nani,” Pleakley breathed in relief; he realized he’d been holding on to that particular breath for a very long time. “It means a lot to hear you say that.”

            “Isn’t that what family is for?” Nani told him before taking another big bite of sandwich. “But why else are you keeping it a secret that you lo – that you like Jumba?”

            “Well, ‘love’ might not be too far off, depending,” Pleakley sighed. “We have known each other for going on three years now, and we’re close in a lot of ways. I just feel really comfortable around him, and I want him to be happy.” He slammed his fist on the table. “But that doesn’t change all those other things about him! I mean, ketchup flavored rocket fuel? How stupid is that? And you saw how he tried to separate us when Link stuck us together! He was going to use a laser on me! FROM THE INSIDE!”

            “Well, first of all, I don’t think he would ever do anything to really hurt you,” Nani stated. “The laser was probably harmless.”

            “How do YOU know?”

            “I live in the same house as both of you. Jumba might like to bother you, but I can tell he at least thinks of you as a part of his family that he wouldn’t want to lose.” She swallowed before taking another bite. “But anyway, the thing about love is that you have to balance out the things you don’t like with the things you do. Take a non-romantic example. There are a lot of things about Lilo that drive me up the wall. She always has to learn her lessons the hard way by breaking the rules. Sometimes I think she just doesn’t respect me. And she can be so morbid. But I love her. She’s my sister. I can try to give her guidance in the right direction, but I can’t change her. So I take her the way she is, and it works out for both of us.

            “That’s what you have to work out with Jumba. You love him. So there are some things about him that aren’t perfect. None of us is perfect. You won’t be able to change him, so you have to decide if he’s still worth loving despite all the bad things.”

            “Of course he is!” Pleakley blurted without even thinking.

            Nani smiled. “Then there you are.”

            “But that doesn’t even get into the biggest reason I can’t tell him anything,” Pleakley protested. “It would completely RUIN our friendship. Or familyship. Whatever you call what we have. Because I know he would NEVER like me the same way, and he would just think of it every time he looked at me, and he might even laugh at me. You CAN’T tell me this isn’t the kind of thing he’d laugh at.”

            “I can’t tell you that,” Nani admitted, “unless you made it very important that this was a serious matter he shouldn’t laugh at. I think he’ll know where to draw the line if you start drawing it for him. I can’t say exactly how he DOES feel about you, but I do know he thinks you’re very important. And if he thought laughing at you might do damage to your relationship, he’d think twice.”

            “The thing is, I know you’re probably right,” Pleakley admitted, “but I just…can’t bring myself to say anything.”

            “If the time becomes right, you’ll know what to say,” Nani encouraged. “I can’t tell you if it’s a good idea to let him know or not. That’s something only you can decide. But if someone means a lot to you, it’s important to let them know before it’s too late.”

            “What if you’re wrong,” Pleakley worried, “and he does laugh at me about it?”

            “Then just tell me what he did,” Nani promised, “and I’ll smack him in the head with the broom.”

            They both shared a laugh at that.

            “I gotta get back to work,” Nani informed Pleakley as she rolled up the now-empty paper bag and dropped it in the recycling bin. “Thank you SO MUCH for the food. Take it easy, okay?”

            “You go have fun out there!” Pleakley encouraged her. “But not TOO MUCH fun!”

            “Don’t worry,” Nani said with a wink. “I will, and I won’t.”

 

* * *

 

            When Nani arrived home that afternoon, Jumba was seated at the kitchen table, intently working on some new gadget there; gears and chips were littered across the table’s surface.

            “Do I even want to know what you’re building now?” Nani sighed.

            “Probably not,” Jumba told her. “How was working day?”

            “Never a dull moment.” Nani poured herself a glass of water from the sink, sitting down at the far end of the table to drink it.

            “Please to be careful not to get new invention wet,” Jumba cautioned.

            Nani drew the glass closer to herself. “No worries here.” Thinking back on her conversation with Pleakley, she broke out with “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

            “I do not see why not,” Jumba told her. “Have answers to most of questions stored away somewhere in brilliant mind.”

            “When you were going to use that internal laser on Pleakley to cut the bond Link made between you,” Nani asked, “that wasn’t going to hurt him, was it?”

            “Of course not!” Jumba looked up from his work, giving off a somewhat offended air. “Would simply have energized molecules. You think I would ever do anything to HURT Pleakley?”

            “I was just curious,” Nani said with a shrug that was light enough not to disrupt the water in the glass in her hand.

            “Was desperate to become detached from him,” Jumba muttered, “but not THAT desperate.” He returned his attention to the scattered cogs.

            “I still don’t understand,” Nani told him. “You two seem so close. Why did it bother you so much to be stuck to each other for a little bit?”

            “Because he makes me clean things!” Jumba insisted. “And he is least evil person I know! Why would I want to be attached to least evil person I know?”

            Nani sighed. “When are you just going to admit you’re not evil anymore?”

            “I do not know what you are talking about.”

            Nani fired him a knowing smirk. “And was actually doing a few chores around the house REALLY so bad?”

            “Yes it was. Besides, you all rely on old-fashioned ways to do things. I could provide inventions that would cut cleaning time in quarters.”

            “I think we’ll stick with the good old-fashioned broom and sponge,” Nani told him. “Anyway, I was just surprised, is all.”

            “You were surprised that two absolutely incompatible people behaved absolutely incompatibly?”

            “You’re not absolutely incompatible,” Nani reminded him. “You two have worked together on a bunch of things! Remember that thing you were working on not that long ago with the puppies and the chocolate and…what even was that?”

            “Attempt to distill essence of love.”

            “Okay, would two incompatible people be working together to try and discover the ESSENCE OF LOVE?” Nani realized what she was doing: attempting to dig up just exactly how Jumba did feel about Pleakley. Now that Pleakley had gotten it into her head how much he was afraid of Jumba’s perception of his feelings, she felt compelled to get a better idea of how Jumba might react to him. Still, she respected the promise she had made; Nani Pelekai was never one to break a promise. No talk of Pleakley’s love for Jumba would cross that table. “I think you two have accepted that you’re part of a family.”

            “Is improbable, no?” Jumba said somewhat wistfully. “That I should become close to goody-three-shoes Council assigned to breathe down neck. Hate to admit it, but have become used to his nagging.”

            “If I can ask…what do you really think about him?”

            Jumba looked to Nani in surprise. “What I think of Pleakley? Has been almost three years, and you need to ask?”

            “Your relationship IS different than it was when you first moved in,” Nani reminded him. “I just want to know if we’ve all come as far together as I think we have.”

            “Pleakley is…very good friend,” Jumba stated, careful with how he tread. “Yes. Good friend. Nothing more.”

            “Well, good,” Nani said contentedly. At least Jumba and Pleakley did have that rapport between them.

            “I don’t know why you would think is anything else,” Jumba continued. “Is nothing else. Nothing at all! We are incompatible, yet we are friends. That is as big of surprise as you are going to get.”

            “Now, hold on.” Nani’s suspicions were raised. “Jumba, you do know I’ve been Lilo’s big sister for longer than you’ve known me, right? I’ve figured out how to tell when a denial goes on for just a bit too long, and that was a suspiciously long and specific denial. What’s going on that you’re not saying?”

            “Is nothing,” Jumba told her briskly.

            “Well, I won’t bother you about it, then,” she said. “But if you ever need to talk, you know, to get anything off your chest, you know I’m here to listen.” She took a long swig of water.

            Jumba thought it over. “How good are you at keeping secrets?”

            “The best,” Nani replied.

            “Give example?”

            “If I gave you an example of a secret I’ve kept for a long time,” Nani countered, “that would be giving away the secret.”

            “Aha, is good!” Jumba asserted. “You have passed test!”

            Nani smirked.

            “Perhaps is something bothering me,” Jumba admitted, “and would be good to let someone else in on secret. But must never, ever, EVER tell anyone else. ESPECIALLY Pleakley. Understood?”

            Nani nodded. “Understood.”

            “Also, not to be drinking water when I say this. You will spit it all over prototype.”

            Nani set the glass gently on the table. “Not a drop.”

            Jumba gave a sigh. “Perhaps do think of Pleakley as…slightly more than friend.”

            “I thought we established that you were family,” Nani replied.

            “No, no,” Jumba corrected. “Not in that way. As in…what you have with smooth-talking surfer boy.”

            It took Nani a moment to process Jumba’s way of referring to David before she realized what he had actually told her. “You mean…you have feelings for him? Romantic ones?”  
            “Was never supposed to be part of plan!” Jumba insisted. “Was never supposed to have mushy-gushy feelings for anyone! Least of all Pleakley! Did not even know was bisexual. Is interesting development. But silly crush is getting in all sorts of way! Was completely fine before he started making heart race at most inopportune times. How am I supposed to concentrate on work when am thinking about disgustingly adorable things he has done earlier in day? Would rather these inconvenient feelings just be gone!”

            “Would that really be better?” Nani asked, shocked at this development. They really did both love each other, she realized, and she was sworn never to tell either about the other. “I know having those feelings can be distracting. But isn’t it just good to have someone in your life who you care about that much?”

            “There are admittedly upsides,” Jumba replied. “But was already big enough adjustment getting used to having real family. Cannot deal with love on top of that. Hence Pleakley must never know.”

            “Is this about your pride?” Nani asked coldly. “Do you think it makes you look less evil and smart if you love somebody?”

            “Yes!” Jumba asserted. “Is exactly it!”

            “There are a lot of better reasons to hide what you feel about someone,” Nani informed him sternly. “You might want to take your ego down a peg. Jumba, all of us, Pleakley included, know you’re brilliant. And we also know how evil you REALLY are.” Not at all, she thought to herself. “Opening up to someone won’t make you any less of either of those things.”

            “Is still bad idea,” Jumba told her. “Have considered telling Pleakley truth many times. But is absolutely terrible idea.”

            “Why?”

            Jumba needed a few minutes to answer that. He eventually came up with “Must be bad idea for some reason, because cannot get words to come out of mouth.”

            “Well, in the end, it’s your business,” Nani told him. “I just worry that one day, it might be too late for you to tell him how much he means to you.”

            “Is Nani saying this because she, once, did not tell someone what they meant to her?” Jumba theorized.

            “Maybe,” Nani sighed. She looked down at the water glass. “I never really did get to tell my parents I loved them the night they…” She trailed off. “Never mind.”

            Jumba knew as he regarded Nani that he was definitely going soft. His walls, with their carefully installed gates, might as well have been decimated by Melty at this point. “Is not your fault,” he told her. “Knowing you, and combining that knowledge with what very little I know of them, is no way they did not know you appreciated them.”

            “I wasn’t always the person you know now,” Nani admitted. “I was a lot angrier when I was younger. I wasn’t as mature or as open about my feelings. For all I know, they might have thought I hated them.”

            “You do believe I am brilliant, yes?”

            “Yes…”

            “And when I say thing I believe is fact, you trust it to be fact?”

            “What does this have to do with – “

            “Answer question, please.”

            “Yes,” Nani answered.

            “Then trust this to be fact,” Jumba asserted. “Your mother and father knew you loved them.”

            Nani found herself smiling slightly. “Thank you.”

            “Suppose I owe you my thanks as well for keeping secret.”

            Nani stood up. “Well, I suppose I have to start on dinner. I’m going to need all that stuff cleared off the table by the time I’m done.”

            “Will require at least three more hours to finish prototype.”

            Nani stared Jumba down. “By the time I’m done with dinner.”

            “What are you going to do? Ground me?”

            “No,” Nani teased, “but I might smack you in the face with a broom.”

            Jumba sighed and began to gather the pieces of the device. “You could have makings of evil in you, you know.”

            “You better believe it!”


	12. We Are Always in It Together

When the Grand Councilwoman offered Jumba, Pleakley, and Stitch their rewards in return for service capturing and rehabilitating the scattered experiments, it appeared Lilo was the one who had the hardest time letting each go to the fate he’d always wanted.

            Jumba and Pleakley each had considered, however, the fact that they would have to split up from each other in order to pursue their dreams. After how far they’d come, was it really worth it?

            It was a chance to teach Earth Studies to a younger generation and inspire their minds, Pleakley thought. Of course it was worth it. Besides, he was sure nothing could come of telling Jumba how he felt.

            It was a chance to regain his old glory and work on projects of an unparalleled scale, Jumba thought. Of course it was worth it. Besides, he was sure no good would come of telling Pleakley how he felt.

            When they made the decision to part, both were certain it was the best move. They were ready to move up to bigger and better things.

            It kicked in fast, how much they truly missed each other once they were apart.

 

* * *

 

            To recount the circumstances that had sealed Jumba, Pleakley, and Stitch, the former two with hands chained and the latter locked up in a glass containment canister, in a shuttle that Hämsterviel had programmed to hurtle toward a black hole and dispose of all three of them would take longer than is worth the trouble. To make it short: a jailbreak, experiment 629, and Pleakley not being able to take a hint.

            “We’re gonna die,” Pleakley moaned in a panic the moment the ship took off. “We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, we’re all gonna die!”

            Stitch simply growled in anger.

            Jumba was silent. His mind was a whirling mess of thoughts. When confronted with a problem such as this, he turned to science to poke at solutions. What would be on the other side of this black hole? That he knew, and it wasn’t pretty. How could it be stopped? There had to be a way, but every solution he considered was hindered by a crucial factor. For example, there was always last-minute disruption, but that would require at least one of the passengers of the ship to not be chained up or locked in a canister.

            “HOW ARE YOU BEING SO CALM ABOUT THIS?” Pleakley shrieked.

            “Am THINKING OF SOLUTIONS!” Jumba barked right back.

            “Well?” Pleakley asked desperately. “Do you have anything?”

            “Admittedly, no,” Jumba told him. “Does seem rather hopeless.”

            “RATHER HOPELESS?”

            “Perhaps last-minute idea will strike?” Jumba’s tone betrayed his uncertainty.

            “This is how we’re going to diiiiieeeee!” Pleakley cried in anguish.

            “Naga die!” Stitch clawed at the interior of the canister. It left a scratch mark. That was already better than nothing.

            “Nani was right!” Pleakley continued, on the verge of tears. “It really IS going to be too late for me to say what I should have said!”

            “What should you have said?” Jumba asked.

            “I…” Of all times, why should the words be so hard to say even now? “I missed you.”

            “I know. So did I, to you.”

            “I just wanted to see you again.”

            “As did I!”

            “And I…well…I…” Pleakley swallowed hard. It was literally now or never. If they were going to go, Jumba might as well know. “Jumba, you have to know! I LOVE YOU!”

            “YES!” Jumba replied. “SO DO I!”

            “No, no, no!” Pleakley shook his head. “Not like family! Not like a friend! I mean I romantically love you! I have for YEARS!” Now the tears actually were flowing. “And now we’re both gonna die!”

            Jumba was taken aback. “You…you do?” he said softly. “You are truly feeling this way about me?”

            “Ye-e-eeees!” Pleakley wailed, looking everywhere but directly at Jumba’s face. “I kept thinking I should have told you, but I thought you would make fun of me, and I knew you didn’t feel the same way about me, and I thought I could just forget all about it when I took that professor job, but I couldn’t forget about it, and I missed you, and – “  
            “Pleakley.”

            “What?” Pleakley finally forced himself to look Jumba in the eye; his own was bloodshot.

            “You…” Jumba struggled to find his own words. “You should never have come back.”

            “But – “

            “If you had not come back, would be just me alone sent to black hole.”

            “And me!” Stitch reminded Jumba as he kept on clawing at his glass. There were now several scratch marks; he had reason to believe he was getting through.

            “You should not have shown up either!” Jumba barked, firing a glance back over his shoulder at Stitch. “Should ONLY be me headed for terrible fate!” He turned back to Pleakley. “Truth is, for quite some time…” Why beat around the bush now? Pleakley hadn’t. Not much, anyway. “I have been loving you too, in same sense.”

            “You WHAT?” Pleakley shrieked.

            “I too thought nothing could come of telling you truth,” Jumba admitted. “But was moreso matter of pride. Thought it would diminish status as thick-skinned loner. Ship already sailed when I let myself be part of family, however. Should have told you from very beginning.”

            “Jumba,” Pleakley gushed, “you…you need to know…I’ve always loved how confident you are, and how smart, and how – “

            “Be saving of breath,” Jumba told him. “Am just now realizing your love letters to me were all true.”

            “They were,” Pleakley admitted. “It was never about acting! I was just trying to get it out of my system!”

            “Already know what you think of me from letters,” Jumba informed him. “I sort of…kept all to read for later. They were very flattering letters! And I have just as much to say about you. If we survive this, will tell you all of it. For now, just know you are kindest person I know, and do not deserve to end this way.”

            “I don’t want you to go out this way either! I wish it was just me!”

            “Well, we are in this together, and no changing that,” Jumba reiterated. “Is no different from usual. We are ALWAYS in it together, you and I.”

            “We are,” Pleakley agreed, his voice timid.

            They both knew, in the same moment, what had to be done. They leaned toward each other, leaning on each other, pressing mouth to mouth, becoming lost in their first and what could have been last kiss, shutting eyes to block out everything but each other. They remained in such a position for half a minute or more before breaking their lips apart from each other.

            “Ewwww,” Stitch groaned. “Mushy-gushy.”

            “AY!” Jumba barked, turning to glare at Stitch again. “You are not seeing us making rude comments on your relationship with 624!”

            “He does!” Stitch pointed at Pleakley.

            “You are not seeing ME making rude comments on your relationship with 624!” Jumba corrected.

            Stitch rolled his eyes and resumed his clawing at the glass.

            “That might’ve been our last kiss,” Pleakley croaked.

            “Yes,” Jumba said somberly. “It might have.”

            Pleakley, at a loss for words, simply leaned into Jumba, shaking with fear. Had Jumba’s hands not been chained, he would have pulled Pleakley closer, attempted to comfort him in the final moments.

            He turned his gaze outward, to the view of the stars and the void between them. And there it was, already coming into his field of vision: the final destination.

            “Ah, Pleakley,” he said tentatively, “I hate to inform you, but…”

            Pleakley saw it. And once he did, panic exploded from within him; he sat bolt upright, letting out a piercing scream. “BLACK HOLE, DEAD AHEAD!”

            Jumba’s heart sank, and his mind went back to running calculations. There had to be a solution. There had to be an escape. He now had ever the more reason to survive – and, more importantly, to save those trapped with him.

            Stitch clawed frantically until the glass was completely scored with scratch marks, then butted his head through the weakened glass, breaking out of the canister. He’d had just about enough talk of romance and was ready to figure out a great escape. With one swipe each, he broke the restraints holding Jumba and Pleakley’s limbs in place. Without a further word, he leapt onto the keypad of the shuttle’s dashboard, inputting coordinates for Earth. As the onboard AI informed him the coordinates were denied, Jumba and Pleakley watched him, hoping he contained their salvation.

            The pull of the black hole’s gravity grew ever stronger. Pleakley finally thought to ask, “What’s gonna happen to us?”

            “According to calculations…” Jumba tapped a few keys on the dash. “Black hole will transport us to volcano planet, where we will be quickly – yet painfully – VAPORIZED!”

            “VAPOR?”

            “Unless…” One of the first ideas Jumba had conceived returned to him. Disruption. Now, his hands were no longer tied.

            “UNLESS?” Pleakley repeated.

            “Unless,” Jumba continued, “we alter destination by disrupting event horizon just before entry. Is requiring small projectile of approximately three inch diameter, weighing 17.2 ounces!”

            “But we don’t have – “ Now it was Pleakley’s turn to be hit by the revelation. Still upon his person was a parting gift bestowed upon him by Lilo. “Wait a minute!” He retrieved the paperweight from his uniform pocket; “LILO’S ROCK!”

            The rock required only some alteration from Stitch’s teeth to weigh the proper amount; it was launched from the shuttle, colliding with the black hole, creating a new entry passage for the wayward craft –

            Jumba and Pleakley threw their arms around each other as they braced for an uncertain fate.

            And like all their other plans, this one, last-minute and full of variables, worked.

 

* * *

 

            To describe how Hämsterviel was defeated and peace brought to the galaxy would take longer than is worth the trouble. In short: an epic battle of experiments, a toe-tapping live performance of “Aloha Oe,” and Gantu putting his wicked ways behind him for good.

            After the Councilwoman offered honors once more to Lilo, Stitch, Jumba, and Pleakley, all four had opted to go back home to the Pelekai household in Kokaua Town. Lilo was ecstatic; her family was to be reunited at long last.

            As Jumba piloted the ship that brought them all home, he only kept one hand on the steering mechanism, reaching the other out to the adjacent seat, where Pleakley sat. Instead of berating him about keeping both hands on the wheel, Pleakley gripped the meaty hand as best he could with his thin fingers.

            “I wonder what our life’s going to be like now,” Lilo mused. “We caught and saved all the experiments, and Gantu and Hämsterviel are never going to bother us again. It might be nice to have things be quiet for once.”

            “How much you want to be things will absolutely not be quiet?” Jumba asked.

            “My entire life savings,” Pleakley replied dryly.

            “Waiiiiiit a minute.” Lilo suddenly took notice of what they were doing in front of her. “Are you two holding hands?”

            The question caught both off guard, as though they hadn’t even fully realized that was what they were doing.

            “Well, uh…” Pleakley attempted to explain, “there’s one thing for sure that’s going to be a little different when we get back home.” He turned to look to Jumba’s profile. “Or…maybe not so different.”

            “We are both in agreement of what our relationship needs to be, yes?” Jumba replied.

            “We’re…with each other,” Pleakley informed Lilo.

            “You mean like Nani and David are with each other?” Lilo asked.

            “No,” Jumba told her. “We are infinitely superior couple to Nani and smooth-talking surfer boy.”

            “But more or less, yes,” Pleakley clarified.

            “But you’re both…” Lilo tried to think of how to say it without seeming rude.

            “Both men?” Jumba filled in. “Yes. It can happen. Happens often, in fact.”

            Pleakley cringed; was he now about to find out that Lilo disapproved?

            “Um…I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Lilo said, “but if two men can love each other, than can two girls love each other?”

            “Well, yes,” Pleakley replied. “It’s perfectly natural.”

            “That’s a relief,” Lilo sighed.

            “Lilo?” Stitch asked. “What wrong?”

            “Well, I haven’t wanted to say anything,” Lilo admitted, “but I haven’t felt anything about Keoni Jameson in a while. Lately, I’ve kind of had a crush on somebody else. But I got scared because I didn’t know if it was okay for me to like Victoria like that.”

            “Oh, Lilo, of course it’s okay!” Pleakley reassured. “Whether you love a guy, or a girl, or somebody from a completely different planet, you should be proud of it!”

            “Victoria is other little girl who is called weird, yes?” Jumba clarified. “Two of you could potentially conquer worlds together.”

            “I’m still kind of afraid of what Nani would think,” Lilo said nervously.

            “Nani will be fine with it,” Pleakley told her. “Trust me.”

            “How do you know?” Lilo asked.

            “Because I told her about the fact that I was in love with Jumba,” Pleakley informed her, “and she was okay with it.”

            “Waaaaiiiiit a minute,” Jumba realized. “I also told Nani of my feelings about YOU. Whole time, she KNEW. And said NOTHING.”

            “Well, I did make her promise not to,” Pleakley admitted.

            “As did I!” Jumba added. “Her commitment to secret-keeping played us for fools!”

            “We could have known about this way before we did!” Pleakley groaned.

            “Well, you know now,” Lilo reminded them, “and it’s better late than never, right?”

            “Ih!” Stitch agreed. “Boojiboos now!”

            “Better late than never is good philosophy,” Jumba mused.

            “Like when you finally told me about Skip’s reset button when I used him for time travel!” Lilo contributed.

            This elicited a synchronized “WAIT, WHAT?”

 

* * *

 

            Lilo bolted up the steps that led to the front door of her house – their house. “NANI!” she screamed. “NANI, YOU HAVE TO HEAR ABOUT OUR ADVENTURE!”

            “NANIIIIIIIII!” Stitch chorused, scampering after her.

            Jumba made it up to the door minutes later, reaching for the doorknob, but he was stopped by a slender hand reaching up for his shoulder. He turned to see Pleakley looking up at him, anxiety evident upon his face.

            “You didn’t just say that because we were about to die, did you?” Pleakley asked. “You meant it, right? You do…love…me?”

            Jumba thought about making some comment along the lines of “More than I should” or “Embarrassingy so.” But he knew it was time to drop the pretense. The walls had been brought down. Sarcastic commentary had its place later on, not here. “Very much,” he said with a warm smile. “And you?”

            “Yes,” Pleakley replied earnestly. “So much, I don’t even know how to say it.”

            “There are other ways besides words.”

            Jumba reached for Pleakley, gently bringing him into an embrace. Pleakley’s own arms traveled around Jumba, and they kissed once more. When Jumba felt Pleakley go almost completely limp in his arms and stumble back, he withdrew from the kiss to amusedly behold the dumbstruck smile that graced Pleakley’s face.

            Pleakley realized how absent-minded he must have looked. He couldn’t help it; he was awash with emotion, crashing like the waves upon the nearby ocean. “What?” he asked, though he knew very well what.

            “That look on face,” Jumba explained. “Is absolutely star-struck. I like it.”

            He leaned in for another kiss.

            “When I said ohana was more important than lab,” Jumba whispered once the next kiss was broken, “I did mean entire family. But mostly meant you. You are family. You are where I belong.”

            “And when I said I wanted to go home,” Pleakley replied, just as soft, “I meant you. You’re my home.”

            As they turned to open the door, Jumba suggested, “Am thinking second bed is no longer necessary. You agree?”

            “Oh…yes!” Pleakley flushed as he nodded. “VERY unnecessary!”


	13. Maybe Some Things Are Just Miracles

The impossible had been witnessed that night. After three years, Stitch’s incomplete molecular charging had caught up with him, causing him to physically break down. Out of shame, out of fear, Jumba had tried to hide it from the rest of the family, but there was one from whom he simply could not keep the secret (and that one’s badgering to be included did help the cause). He had tried, he had failed, he had tried again to build a chamber that would recharge Stitch and save his life. In the end, however, Stitch owed his life to a miracle. It seemed to be Lilo’s pure love for him that brought him back from the depths, reuniting the family once more.

            That night, after everyone else had gone to bed (so he thought), Jumba sat on the porch of the house, simply looking up at the stars and reflecting on the night’s events.

            As it turned out, he wasn’t the only one awake.

            “Uh…hi.”

            Jumba twisted around to see Pleakley framed in the doorway, backed by the radiant light of the house, holding a steaming mug in each hand. “You didn’t come to bed,” he said gingerly, “so I wondered if you might want company. Or you can be alone! That’s fine, too! I just thought – “

            Jumba smiled, patting the segment of the porch next to him. “Come. Sit.”

            As Pleakley did so, he offered one of the mugs to Jumba. “I made hot chocolate.”

            “In tropical climate?”

            “Eheh…yeah, that was probably a liiiiiiittle silly.”

            Still, Jumba accepted the mug. “Is mostly marshmallows.”

            “Do you have a PROBLEM with marshmallows?”

            “Not at all.”

            They both sat and drank in silence before Jumba said, “What we saw was not possible. Have racked brains over and over, and is no scientific explanation for what happened.”

            “Well, science doesn’t have to explain everything,” Pleakley suggested. “Maybe some things are just miracles.”

            “Is only explanation that makes any sort of sense whatsoever,” Jumba replied, “and is truly no explanation at all.”

            “You don’t think your machine had anything to do with it?”

            “No. By the time little girl brought machine to Stitch, was already far too late.”

            “You’ve never called him that before all this,” Pleakley pointed out. “He was always 626. But ever since he started glitching out, you’ve been calling him ‘Stitch.’”

            “I have?” Jumba hadn’t even noticed. “Hm. I have! Is overdue time.”

            “Well, he is technically like your son in a way.”

            “Is true!” Jumba nodded. “Back to point, however. I do have every faith machine would have indeed worked. Do you know why?”

            “Why?”

            “Because you had every faith it would work.” He turned to look directly at Pleakley, who returned the gaze. “Could absolutely not have finished it without you and your encouragement.”

            “Aw, I think you would’ve figured it out,” Pleakley said as a slow blush crept over his face, barely visible in the darkness. “You’re a genius, remember?”

            “Yes,” Jumba reminded him, “but had lost hope and confidence in self. It was you who brought it back. It was you who reminded me of how genius I am.”

            “I just told you what you already knew – “

            “No,” Jumba insisted. “You inspired me when I wished to give up. Do not try and reject credit for that.”

            As they stared up at the stars once more, Pleakley somehow drained his mug despite the temperature. “Hey,” he said suddenly. “I’m curious about something.”

            “Yes?”

            “You read all my love letters to you,” Pleakley recalled. “Back at the black hole, when we almost…you know…you said you had just as much to say about me, and you’d tell me if we survived. But you never did.”

            “Must have slipped mind,” Jumba admitted. “Well, now is good time, is it not? First, as much as I complain that you lack proper evil motivation, am actually impressed by your kindness. Both of your hearts must be very big. You say I am smart one, yet you are far more intelligent than I believe you give self credit for. You are person who I can tell anything, absolutely anything! But now that I think about it, is one more important thing about you I absolutely adore. Is potentially most important thing of them all.”

            “What’s that?”

            “You give me faith,” Jumba said plainly, “when I have lost it.”

            He could tell that Pleakley had only grown more flustered upon hearing this; Pleakley smiled giddily, looking down at his cup of marshmallow dregs. After some time, Pleakley spoke up: “I really appreciate that you let me in on everything.”

            “You pestered me into it.”

            “Yeah, but you still could’ve shut me out if you really wanted to.”

            “Obviously did not really want to.” Jumba set his mug aside, reaching out with one arm to draw Pleakley nearer. Pleakley leaned into him, putting down his own mug to wrap an arm around the one who he could now truly call his lover.

            “You know,” Pleakley recalled, “Stargazing was one of the traditional date ritual activities we logged during our studies of love. I can see why. Do you ever think about all the people on this planet who look up there and have no idea of everything that’s out there? They don’t know where we come from, they don’t know about the Council…”

            “Is interesting thought,” Jumba remarked. “All that space out there, and they believe it is empty. How have they made livelihood when world is so small to them? Is only one planet!”

            “Well,” Pleakley suggested, “maybe they just find the things that are important on this one little planet, and that becomes bigger than anything that could be out there.”

            “You sound like you are speaking from experience.”

            “That’s because I am,” Pleakley admitted. “I found the most important thing in my whole universe right here.”

            “You know what?” Jumba replied. “So did I.”

 

~End~


End file.
